


An Angel with Feelings

by BlueBoxDetective



Series: A feeling Angel and an angelic Human [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Eventual Smut, First Dates, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Dean Winchester, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post 11x04 Baby, Smut, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-01-16 14:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 72,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18523321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBoxDetective/pseuds/BlueBoxDetective
Summary: “It pains me, Dean,” the angel informs the hunter quietly and he lets go of the other man's wrist, but Dean doesn't move. His eyes widen and he raises an eyebrow:“You're an angel, Cas. You don't feel pain.”“Maybe not as much as I did when I was human,” explains Cas with a serious look, “but I am able to feel emotions."





	1. Emotions can be confusing

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 11x04 "Baby". Sam and Dean return to the bunker after a hunt they both got hurt in. Cas has waited for them.
> 
> Please keep in mind that English is not my native language. I apologize for any mistakes I made.
> 
> Supernatural is a trademark of Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., all rights reserved. My story is only shared for the enjoyment of others and is not intended to get myself any advantages or to create the feeling that the characters are my own.

Sam is the first one to stumble through the door of the bunker, and shortly after Dean follows him. The door falls shut with a loud bang that echoes through the bunker and hides the painful breaths of the two hunters.  
“Guys?” Even though Cas is an angel again, his worry is audible and his voice no longer as undecipherable as it was before he spend time as a human. Before the brothers even make it down the stairway he is standing at the bottom of it, grabbing the duffel bags out of their hands and putting them down.  
“I was worried about you,” he complains while he eyes the hunters up and down, inspecting their injuries, “Are you okay?”  
“Sorry,” answers Sam while Dean simultaneously mutters “Yes,” and Cas' eyes rush back and forth between the two of them. “Sam got beat up pretty bad,” adds Dean, and that brings the angel into action. He pulls a nearby chair from the map table close and gestures Sam to sit down. “I will heal you both,” he informs them and his voice is back to I-am-an-angel-of-the-lord-and-you-do-what-I-say. With a huff of exhaustion Sam falls into the offered chair, his long limbs dangling at the side of it.  
“I'll go use the toilet,” murmurs Dean and vanishes into the bunker as Cas reaches out to Sam. With a gentle touch to the forehead the blood disappears from his wounds and the injuries heal instantly. A deep sigh leaves the hunter's mouth and the expression on his faces eases.  
“Thanks, Cas,” Sam smiles and sits up straight, flexing the muscles in his hands “we're lucky to have you around. That would have hurt for days.”  
“And it would have left a significant scar on your forehead,” states Cas while he watches Sam examine his body, seemingly checking if the hunter is all well now. When he appears to be satisfied with the result of his work he turns towards the hallway Dean had vanished into. “I'll go check in on Dean.”  
“Cas,” the younger brother calls after him and the angel turns around again, “you do know why he walked away, don't you?”  
“He stated to need to use the bathroom, but I assume he wanted to avoid me healing him,” elaborates the angel with a firm expression. Sam nods and gets up from his chair. “And you know why he doesn't want you to do it?”  
Cas tilts his head, the only sign that he isn't as confident with this answer as he had been with the previous one, “It appears to be connected to the recent events involving the mark of Cain, since that was the first instance where he forbid me to heal him.”  
“He feels guilty about hurting you,” explains Sam and this time it is Cas who nods. “But he agreed to me to let himself be healed up by you in the car, so you can hold him to that. In the meantime, I'll prepare us some dinner.”  
Both men head down the hallway, parting in the direction of the kitchen and the sleeping quarters.

///

Cas finds one of the bathroom doors locked and knocks cautiously: “Dean?”  
“Hm?” comes an affirmative murmur from the other side of it.  
“I'm here to heal you, Dean,” explains Cas calmly, staring at the wood of the door.  
A short moment, some clattering and rustling later the hunter calls muffled: “'m fine, Cas, thanks!”  
“You looked to be injured in a couple of places,” replied Cas steadily, but Dean quickly denied:  
“Nah, it's just superficial. I'll clean it and put some band aids on, no need to waste your angel mojo on it.”  
“Healing you is not a waste of my powers, Dean,” insists the angel, leaning closer to the door as if Dean was able to see him. When he doesn't get an answer, he adds: “And I would rather have this conversation without a door between us.”  
“You could go help Sam,” suggests the hunter in a unconvincing happy voice.  
“He doesn't need my help preparing dinner,” explains Cas, “and I would rather help you. With that bite wound on your neck, for example.”  
This time Dean's voice shows a hint of annoyance, not yet enough to have Cas give up, but enough to tell him that the hunter won't argue for long anymore: “It's nothing, Cas.”  
“Show me then, if it's nothing, I'll leave you be.”  
There is movement on the other side of the door, things seem to be placed down and something that resembles a “dammit” quietly comes through the wood. The 'click' indicates the door being unlocked and Cas pushes it open, finding Dean in front of the mirror with bloody pads and band aids surrounding him. To be fair, he does look better since he has washed of a lot of the blood from his face, but there was no way of hiding the nasty bite on his neck and one particular bad cut above his eyebrow.  
“Dean,” Cas addresses the hunter, neither a question nor a real statement, more an expression of worry.  
“See,” Dean insists while he continues to clean the wound on his forehead, “doesn't even need stitches. It'll heal in a couple of days.”  
“It will heal within a second and not even leave a scar if you let me help you,” counters Cas, frowning and stepping closer.  
“Cas!” Dean's voice is a mixture of warning and annoyance, making Cas stop dead in his track. He by far isn't within reach of Dean, but he knows Dean doesn't want him to come closer. When Cas replies, his voice mimics Dean's and a hint of his celestial force reveals himself, not a tone that is usually audible when he speaks with the Winchesters:  
“You are being stubborn, Dean, and you know it,” Cas stares at the back of Dean's head with intensity, even though the hunter doesn't look back at him, “I am now back to my full grace. This doesn't cost us anything, so there is no logical reason for you to suffer.”  
Dean's gaze darkens and he cleans the wound with more force than necessary. Accidentally rubbing over the cut too hard he reopens an injured blood vessel and it starts bleeding again, eliciting a quiet “shit” from the hunter. Impatiently he presses the cotton pad on the wound to stop the blood flow while Cas takes a step towards him. This time the hunter turns around, his eyebrows furrowed:  
“Stop trying to help, Cas.”  
“Why?” Questions the angel in his usual firm voice, staring at Dean.  
“'Cause you don't need to!” Exclaims the human in a sudden outburst, hitting his fist on the sink. He throws the pad into the sink and grabs a band aid, only to put it down again with an annoyed growl when blood still comes out of the cut and runs down to his eyebrow.  
“I don't need to, but I want to.” States Cas seriously and takes another step towards Dean. He holds out another cotton pat to him and Dean grabs it. The hunter doesn't look at him, but his voice is still raised when he asks:  
“Why, Cas? You shouldn't, you're a freaking angel, for crying out loud. You shouldn't hang around with humans, and certainly,” he stresses the word, “certainly not with me.”  
The addressed angel tilts his head. “I thought you knew that I am not your typical angel. I am closer to humans than other angels and I do care about you.”  
“You shouldn't,” repeats Dean, turning around again to face the mirror. He catches his own gaze in it and narrows his eyes, staring at himself.  
“You don't think to deserve to be in the presence of an angel,” states Castiel, not asking.  
Dean throws him a quick look: “No. I deserve a lot of those dicks. But not you. Not anymore, at least.”  
Cas leans against the wall, a surprisingly human behaviour for him: “Has it ever occurred to you that this might be my decision?”  
Without answering Dean cleans up the last of the blood and reaches for the band aid again. Cas catches his wrists and Dean flinches, but his wounds don't heal. When he looks up the angel continues to speak.  
“I care, Dean. About you. And I don't hold it against you what happened when you were under the influence of the mark.”  
“Well, I do,” deadpans Dean with an impassive look on his face.  
“It pains me, Dean,” the angel informs the hunter quietly and he lets go of the other man's wrist, but Dean doesn't move. His eyes widen and he raises an eyebrow:  
“You're an angel, Cas. You don't feel pain.”  
“Maybe not as much as I did when I was human,” explains Cas with a serious look, “but I am able to feel emotions, Dean. I have been for a while now, even before I became human. And I didn't forget when I got my grace back.”  
“What can you feel?” Inquires Dean, suddenly forgetting his project of bandaging himself up.  
“Pain. Sadness. Happiness. Affection. Worry,” Castiel starts to list, “Anger, and Rage. Delight. Fear. That is a gruesome on, fear.”  
Dean's thumb is tapping against the rim of the sink, but his expression is calm, if not a bit curious: “Since when?”  
The angel shrugs his shoulders, a gesture he picked up while being human: “I guess I have always been more inclined towards emotions than my fellow angels. But spending time with you and your brother certainly enhanced my abilities to recognize them. And so I am asking you to stop torturing yourself for what happened when you couldn't control it, because it affects me, too.”  
A quick flash of guilt crosses the hunters eyes and he looks away, fidgeting an almost clean cotton pad between his fingers. Quietly he asks: “So if you are able to feel, why aren't you angry? You should be furious with me.”  
Cas steps closer, ignoring Dean's rule for personal space once more: “Because there are things stronger than that, Dean. You're not having me give up on you about one fight, even if it was a bad one. Especially because it wasn't really you.” Slowly the angel raises his hand, and even though Dean is eyeing it suspiciously, he doesn't move away from it, “So now that you know that I forgive you and that I care, will you let me heal you?”  
The only reaction from Dean is a slow nod, but it is all Castiel needs. Gently he places two fingers on the hunters forehead, right next to the nasty cut. Dean closes his eyes and sighs when the wounds knit themselves back together and heal on their own, and within a second he is as healthy as he could possibly be. The fingers on his forehead leave, but he can feel them again on his neck and he opens his eyes. Cas' gaze is dark and his eyebrows are furrowed when he shortly touches the spot where the bite had been earlier.  
“I can't believe you got bitten in the neck,” he grumbles and something in his voice sounds like he is about to smite something, “I'll come with you the next time you go hunting.” The angel lets his hand drop and looks Dean into the eyes again.  
The hunter opens his mouth as if to protest, but stops and shrugs his shoulders: “If you want to, sure. We can always use an extra pair of eyes.”  
One of the rare smiles tugs on the angel's lips and Dean returns it before they head to join Sam in the kitchen.

 ------------------------------- 

Two days later Sam catches wind of a ghost scaring children in a small town just a few hours of driving away from them, so they decide to take care of it themselves. They are convinced that it will only be a quick salt and burn, so they pack light, expecting to be back in one or two days. Like he had said Cas joins them, spending the majority of the drive in the backseat, staring silently out of the window. He only throws in a comment once or twice when Sam and Dean's conversation revolves about the Darkness, otherwise listening to the brothers bickering like they do on good days.  
It happens almost instantly as they drive into the town: The figure of a young woman appears on the hood of the car, blocking the view through the front window with the sight of her bloody, open and screaming mouth. All three of them jump in shock and Dean slams his foot onto the break, making the Impala screech and slinger while slowing down, throwing the three of them through the car. Before the car has come to a halt the figure disappears after hissing a ear drum shattering “Die, hunterssss....”  
The Impala ends up standing on the side of the road, a couple of feet inside a field. Unimpressed Cas climbs back up to his seat after untangling his limbs on the floor between the driver- and backseat. Sam and Dean are moaning, even though Dean had been able to stay mostly upright he rubs his left wrist and pulls a face. Sam had hit his head on the dashboard and been folded together with his knees pressed against his upper body. When he sits up, blood runs from his nose and he pants while holding his hands to his chest.  
“Air,” he gasps, but Cas is already behind him and places the palm of his hand on the hunter's forehead. The blood stops dripping onto Sam's shirt and after a couple of ragged breaths he calms down, seemingly able to get enough oxygen into his lungs again.  
“Dean?” Asks Cas, his voice not as firm as it usually is. He observes the hunter for signs of injuries.  
“Fine,” huffs Dean, running a hand through his hair, “'m fine. Son of a bitch!”  
Even though Sam is still out of breath and his voice is weak, he apparently can't help but correct his brother: “Daughter, Dean.”  
Dean looks at him, his eyes wide in confusion. But after a short moment he starts to laugh, Sam soon joining him. Even Cas chuckles.

///

Dean had dropped Sam and Cas off at the local library, leaving them to dig up stuff about local deaths. He himself had talked to a couple of the children that had been scared by the ghost. Calling Cas he informed the other two men that the ghost seemed to like spooking around a local river running through the small town.  
The hunter picks up some pizza for them to have for dinner and returns to the only motel in town. They had rented their usual two beds room since the new addition to their team didn't need to sleep. He flopped down on his bed and turned on the TV, aimlessly switching through the channels to find something that interests him. A couple of minutes into some show about a time travelling alien in a blue box he starts to notice the screen flickering, cursing the cheap motel rooms connection. But when it happens a couple of times he begins to become suspicious, grabbing his duffel bag from the other side of the room and placing the shotgun loaded with rock salt on his nightstand. Initially the flickering dies down and Dean relaxes, focusing on the confusing events on the screen, when suddenly all lights in the room explode and glass shards fly through the air. Dean covers his face with his arms, protecting his eyes from the shrapnel but feeling how some pieces dig their way into his hands and through his layers of clothing into his chest. Without warning he is lifted into the air and flying across the room, slamming against the wall opposite of the room. With the impact all air is pressed out of his lungs and he moans before he drops to the floor like a wet rag, his left leg folded up beneath him in a position that isn't natural. He doesn't have enough time to orientate himself before he is being forced through the air again, hitting another wall head first. Desperately his hands are grabbing the thin air, looking for something to hold on to, but they can't find anything. Again he falls, his limb body tumbling down like a bird without wings. The pain he hadn't noticed before suddenly works its way into his conciousness, making him feel like he is burning alive. Quiet over his own sounds of pain he hears new noises, things moving and male voices. He wants to turn around and look what is going on, but his body isn't reacting to him anymore. Something blurs his vision and black dots are dancing in front of his eyes. But a clear voice is able to cut through the fog in his mind and a small smile pulls at his lips when he hears it:  
“Dean?” Castiel asks, the usual distance drained from his voice and replaced by worry. Something cold touches his forehead and instantly his body starts tingling from the sensation of cells fixing themselves back together. Dean can feel his leg move when his bones snap into place and the pain starts easing. But even in his foggy state of mine he realizes that something is off.  
“Dean? Can you hear me?” Asks the angel again, picking Dean up by his upper body so that the hunter is facing him.  
'Yes,' Dean wants to say, and 'thanks', but the words don't form on his lips. He still isn't in control of his own body, and the dots in front of his eyes become bigger. He can see Cas leaning over him, at least the parts that aren't hidden by the dark spots, and he sees his furrowed brows. The angels lips move and the words reach Dean's ears, even though they sound muffled:  
“I healed you, what is wrong?” Castiel gently places him on the ground, his hands moving across the other man's body, feeling for something that is off. The angel continues to talk, his voice worried: “Come on, Dean, talk to me. What it going on?”  
'I don't know,' Dean wants to say, but thinking becomes more difficult with every second that ticks by. The fog is clouding his brain and it feels like his thoughts are getting stuck in it. His beacon is the voice of Cas:  
“Dean, I don't know what is wrong. I want to help, but I don't know how!” Dean wonders if angels can feel desperate, because Cas sure sounds like it at the moment. He wants to calm Cas, make the sting in his voice disappear, but his brain is working less and less. The whisper is barely audible through the fog, but Dean hears it. Cas is pleading: “Please Dean. Please...”  
The black spots take his vision and he can't see the angel anymore. But something in his brain lights up, and Dean works its way through the fog, and than he understands his idea: Praying.  
With intense effort he imagines himself kneeing, his eyes closed and his hands folded, hoping to get through the clouds in his brain.  
'Cas!'  
It is difficult to make out because he is barely able to hear anything anymore, but he can understand bits and pieces of what Cas is responding: “Yes... I... hear... here... Dean...”  
Hopeful that he was able to reach the angel he makes an effort to get two more words through:  
'Still... here...'  
Is all he manages before the clouds and the fog swallow him.

///

Over the next couple of...  
Hours? Days? Dean cant tell time anymore.  
He wakes up once in a while. Dean is able to see himself, doing things, feel his body, but he's not in control. In front of him he can feel another... being, someone else, who is inside his brain and controlling him. When the other one notices Dean being awake, it is like it slams a fist into his face and Dean blacks out again.  
But he gets to see some things. He wakes up to himself scaring a little girl by carrying her into a forest while she is screaming and calling for her mom. Another time he finds himself hiding in some bushes while a small boy runs from a dead cat with tears in his eyes, before the child is captured by him again. And once he gains conciousness when he hears Sammy call out to him, and he sees his own hands around the neck of his brother. Panicking he tries to pull his hands away, but they don't do what he wants them to do. Luckily the moment of distraction of the other thing in his body when it shoves him back into unconsciousness is enough for his little brother to break free.  
When he wakes up this time it is the most violent. The sound that woke him goes straight to his core, and it takes him a second before he understood what it was.  
It had been a scream of pain from Castiel.  
His vision was blurry, but it quickly became more focused. He sees Cas, right in front of him, and he feels him. Their bodies are close, very close. Personal space, he thinks for a moment, before he realizes the expression on the angels face: Pain. It only takes him a second to figure out what caused the expression: His own hand holds the angel blade, and it is partially stuck in Cas' leg. He – at least his hand, even though he isn't controlling it – pushes the blade an inch deeper, and the angel cries out again.  
When he is panting for breath Cas rasps out: “Dean!”  
Without his initiative Dean's mouth starts forming words, words that leave his mouth with a hiss: “Dean's not here. He left you.”  
Cas' voice is weak and quiet, but Dean can hear him as if he was speaking right into his ear: “I know your still there, Dean. Please.”  
'Yes!' Dean wants to scream, he is here, he is still here. But the fog is everywhere, rendering him incapable of doing anything.  
“Face your fear, Castiel,” the hunter hears himself say, “Dean is not here for you. He doesn't care.”  
The angel squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, but they snap back open when Dean's hand twists the blade in his leg.  
“He doesn't care about you, Cas,” the thing in his head makes his body say, and the way he says “Cas” is just wrong. The angel's voice is barely audible when he mutters: “No.”  
Cas is right, he is here, and he needs to do something. He tries nudging the fog in his mind, and that he doesn't get a fist into his conciousness is a good sign. Attempting to repeat reaching Cas through a prayer he closes his imaginary eyes. The effort has him close to passing out again, but he is able to get a word out:  
'Cas.'  
The angel's voice shifts, now there is hope in it instead of pure fear when he sighs: “Dean! You're here!” Not only he realizes, but so does whatever is in his brain, and the fog begins to swirl.  
“Please, Dean,” the hunter can hear the angel pleading, but he can't stop his hand pushing the angel blade deeper. Cas screams and the fog in his brain tries to push him back into unconsciousness, but the sound of Cas' voice has Dean holding on. Instead of backing down he tries to fight the fog, what feels as effective as is sounds, but at least he stays awake.  
The hissing voice comes out of his mouth again: “He's not coming back for you!”  
A single tear drops from Castiel's eye and runs down his face. His voice is cracked when he speaks: “I know you are here, Dean. Please... Please stop it, Dean.”  
'I'm trying,' Dean wants to scream, but he can't. He can fight into the fog, but it feels like he is loosing his bearings when he does. His vision becomes blurry again, and when his mouth moves and hisses he can't hear it this time. Dean begins to panic, scared to lose Cas when he falls unconscious again, and he screams for his angel:  
'Cas!'  
He didn't intentionally make it a prayer, but it is one, and when the angel speaks again he gets his life line back, his vision becoming more focused again.  
“I need you, Dean,” gasps Cas, and even though he can't control his heart right now it swells, and he fights the fog and suddenly, suddenly he feels his hand. In his head he hears hissing, the fog swirling like a storm and fighting him, but with some effort he can loosen the fingers on the angel blade, one by one. Dean can't control anything else, he can't step back, he can't speak, he can't move his arm, but he has let go of the blade and he closes his hand into a fist next to it. With his grip on his hand he feels stronger, and it isn't as exhausting as it was before when he silently tells Cas:  
'I'm here.'  
The angel's eyes widen and a warm shimmer flashes across his eyes. One of his hands, that had previously held on to his injured leg in an attempt to ease the pain, closes around the one Dean has balled into a fist. It strengthens the hunters conciousness, turning the storm in his head into a hurricane. Cas looks him into the eyes, appearing to stare right through all the clouds and to Dean himself, and he pleads: “Stay with me, Dean.”  
The human wants to tell him that he will, but before he is able to formulate a prayer hissing leaves his mouth again, the stormy fog in his brain starting another attack: “He doesn't love you back!”  
For a moment Dean loses his grip, and the fog has him back close to unconsciousness, but this time it is Cas who stays calm. Without his expression chaining he states: “I know. It doesn't matter.”  
Dean is too confused to focus on his grip, and he wonders if the thing in his head said the words to scare Cas or to have him loose control. The fog is taking over again, Dean's hand shivering when they fight over it in his mind. But without a warning Dean's brain is suddenly on fire, burning and lighting up the fog. He hears himself hissing again, but this time it sounds painful and desperate. The fog begins to burn up, and Dean's vision turns black again. Before he looses conciousness, he feels himself falling, right into Cas, and the angel catches him.

///

This time is different. Because this time, he gets to open his eyes. He gets to yawn and when he lifts his hand to cover his mouth, it actually moves. Even though he is barely awake, he enjoys the feeling of being back in his body – not just crammed into the darkest corner of his mind.  
“Dean!” Hearing the relieved voice of his little brother is the best thing he can imagine at the moment. The mattress of the motel bed dips to his left when Sam sits next to him. Dean turns his head and smiles up at him.  
“You're awake!” Exclaims Sam excitedly, stating the obvious, “I'm glad to have you back!”  
“Yeah, me too,” mutters Dean as he sits up. It takes a moment and a hand pressed to his head before the room stops spinning around him, but he stays upright. Just in case Sam moves closer to catch him if he falls.  
“How do you feel?” Questions his little brother.  
“Like I've been possessed,” deadpans Dean, “What the hell was that?”  
“The ghost of a Rake,” explains Sam and Dean raises and eyebrow, “A creature that hunts people by making them live through their deepest fears. Afterwards, it eats them. This one died a while ago but apparently stuck around instead of going to purgatory. I guess it didn't need to eat anymore, so it just scared people and was able to posses you while your tattoo was deformed when you were injured. Took Cas and me a while, but we found it's bones and I burned them.”  
“Why kids?” Dean asks, but Sam shrugs his shoulders: “Maybe their more easily scared?”  
That moment the door of the motel room opens and Cas comes in, a bag from a supermarket in his arm.  
“Hey Cas!” Dean greets him, but when the memories of their last encounter come to his mind, he blushes.  
“Hello, Dean,” replies the angel and puts the purchase on the table to walk over to the brothers. “How are you?” Cas sits down on Sam's bed.  
“I'm good,” answers Dean and looks at Cas' leg, trying to figure out if he was still injured from the angel blade. Cas follows his gaze and reassures him: “I am completely healed.”  
“Good,” Dean mutters, “that's good. I'm really sorry, guys.”  
Before he is able to explain himself further Cas holds out a hand and his brother shakes his head. The angel is the first one to speak, his voice firm: “No, Dean, this was not you, and you do not get to take any blame for what has happened.”  
“What he said,” confirms Sam determined.  
“Okay, I guess,” Dean replies and shrugs his shoulders, “So, how about we head home?”  
“Great idea!” States Sam and jumps to his feet. He grabs both of their duffel bags and the car keys from the table.  
“Hey!” Protest Dean, but Sam interrupts him: “If you think I'll let you drive after you have been possessed and unconscious for the last days, you're crazy.”  
“Bitch,” mumbles Dean, but gets to his feet without arguing about it.  
“Jerk,” responds Sam intuitively and heads for the door, “I'll check us out. Meet you at the car in five.”  
Dean nods when the door shuts behind him. Cas is almost out of the door before Dean can call his name: “Cas, wait.”  
The angel turns around, staring at Dean with the same intensity as always. Dean has to blink twice, but he is fairly certain that there is a faint blush on Cas' cheeks. It makes his heart jump, and it jumps again when he remembers what he had wanted to say.  
“Um...” he stutters, suddenly searching for words. Patient as always Cas just stands there and looks at him. “I just...” Dean starts, shoving his hands in his pockets, “About, you know...”  
Cas looks away, and his voice is unusually quiet: “I would prefer if we do not talk about the events of yesterday. Discussing my fears is not something I enjoy doing.”  
Dean's heartbeat quickens and he knows he has to get the words out before he gets too scared. When the angel turns around again and reaches for the doorknob, Dean blurts out: “It was wrong!”  
Dean is glad that Cas stops and looks back at him, but it just makes him more nervous.  
“What do you mean?” Asks Cas, and Dean blushes when he realizes he will have to explain himself. In the pocket of his jeans he fidgets with a loose thread.  
“The last thing it said,” he states, “it was wrong.” Suddenly, Dean isn't able to hold eye contact anymore and he studies the pattern of the wall while he waits for Cas to answer. It takes the angel a while before he cautiously questions: “What is the last thing you remember it saying?”  
“Man,” Dean sighs, trying to hide his embarrassment, “you'll make me spell it out?”  
“I'm sorry,” apologizes the angel quietly, “I just don't want to get the wrong idea.”  
“Okay, yeah,” Dean nods and runs a hand through his hair. He notices his palm is sweaty and he rubs it against his jeans. “I get that. It's just... I'm not good with words.”  
“I doubt that,” replies Castiel and watches the hunter walk across the room towards him. Dean feels more blood pool in his cheeks as he violates his own personal space rule and steps in front of Cas, only a couple of inches separating them. The angel's piercing blue eyes are right in front of him, staring, widened in slight confusion. Dean bites his lip before he moves the final step closer, and his heart skips a beat when the familiar scent of the angel comes to his nose. Cas isn't moving, neither away from Dean nor closer. The hunter lifts the hand that had hurt Cas with the angel blade, and just like last time it is shaking. Only this time it isn't with effort, but with nervousness. Gently he places it on the angels shoulder, the rough material of the trenchcoat under his palm.  
“What are you doing?” Cas voice is quiet, but – however that's possible – even deeper than it usually it. It makes a shudder run down Dean's spine.  
“I... I can't say it...” whispers Dean, his eyes focused on the other man's lips, “So I'll show you.”  
A silent “Oh” escapes Cas' mouth, and when Dean looks up to his eyes he sees realisation in them. He can't interpret the angel's look and blushes, biting his lip again: “If you want,” he adds.  
When Cas nods, Dean's heart skips a beat, and suddenly, everything feels like it is meant to be. As he leans in, he isn't nervous anymore, and he doesn't stop because he is uncertain, but because he wants to give Cas the chance to move away. The angel doesn't, his breath ghosting across Dean's lips and giving him goosebumps. Dean stares at Cas' mouth and sees how the angel's tongue quickly licks his lips, and even though his heart his hammering hard enough to break his ribs he closes his eyes and gently presses his lips to Cas'.  
It feels different and familiar at the same time. Cas' mouth is warm and gentle on his, but his lips are dry and rough. The stubble on the other man's face brushes his, and it sends a shiver of excitement through his body. Slowly and experimental they move their lips against each other, soft touches that get more certain over time. Dean feels a careful touch of hands on his hips and responds by placing his free hand at the base of Cas' neck.  
Dean is the one who has to break the kiss to get some air. He leans his forehead against Cas', his eyes still closed. When his heartbeat has slowed down a bit and his breathing is regular again, he slowly opens his eyes and pulls back. Cas' pupils are dilated and his lips slightly parted. When the angel whispers, his voice is hoarse and it makes Dean shiver again: “That felt really good.”  
Not able to bring his mouth to form words, Dean simply nods. For a while, they just stare at each other. Finally, Dean is the one to clear his throat and suggest: “We should probably get to the car.”  
“That is true,” agrees the angel, but he doesn't move. Dean lets his hand drop and takes Cas' from his hips, gently squeezing them. Quickly, while his heart skips another beat, he places a kiss to Cas' hot cheek and smiles: “Let's go.”  
The angel actually blushes and nods, a smile on his lips.


	2. Shouldn't it be different now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean get used to the idea of being more than friends. Some arrangements need communicating, though - arguably not one of their best skills.

Sam shoots his brother a confused look when Dean climbs into the backseat instead of the passenger one, but the hunter just shrugs his shoulders and states: “I'm tired, and there's more space back here.”  
“If you say so,” comments Sam with a raised eyebrow, because there is no difference in the space in the back and up front, but Dean doesn't explain himself further. Instead he leans against the window, cooling down his head that still has to be pretty red. Cas looks as unphased as ever, again staring out the window and watching the scenery. But sometimes when Dean glances over to the angel, he catches Cas doing the same, and sometimes Cas catches him staring. They don't comment on it, quickly turning their heads and Dean's ears redden every time it happens.  
The hunter feels like his view of the world had changed. He feels like he's gravitating towards Cas, pulled in by the deep blue of his eyes. Dean understands that it had always been like this, but he had never realized – or maybe he had forbid himself to notice, he thinks and blushes again. Nothing has changed – it is still him, his brother and Cas – but it feels different. More intense. And just when he casts another quick glance at Cas and sees the angel looking away he suddenly realises why he still feels like he is hurting.  
He doesn't want Cas to look away or leave in any kind of way. He wants – he needs him with himself. The angels words and the kiss had let a small seed of hope grow in him, the hope that maybe this time, maybe this was the time when Cas, when the angel wouldn't leave. And as soon as he had the thought, an intense wave of fear crushes down on him, stealing his breath and having him panic.  
When the bunker comes into sight, his heartbeat quickens and he begins to wonder if Cas will maybe go now, the kiss all he wanted from him and he'll leave and do angel business, only dropping in on them every couple of weeks.  
Somewhere in his mind he knows he is being irrational, but he can't help himself. So the second the Impala stops he jumps out of the car, grabbing his bag and muttering something about showering before he basically runs of, leaving a confused brother and angel behind.

///

The cool water has helped him calm down, and he has forbidden himself from thinking about the topic again. So instead he has his headphones on and the music is as loud as his phone would allow it, screaming into his ears to drown out every thought that might cross his mind.  
By chance he is staring at the door when it slowly opens, and Cas' head pokes through the opening. In a rush Dean rips the headphones from his ears and sits up against the headboard, his heart speeding up at the sight of the angel.  
“I'm sorry, I knocked, but you didn't answer,” Cas explains himself cautiously, “may I come in?”  
“Sure,” Dean answers and he is suddenly out of breath, stumbling about the words he wants to say, “'m sorry, headphones. Didn't hear you.”  
The angel nods and sits down on Dean's desk chair, neatly folding his hands in his lap before speaking: “Are you okay, Dean?”  
“Absolutely,” Dean blurts out before even thinking about the question, “You?”  
Ignoring his answer Cas carefully looks at him and states: “You looked uncomfortable in the car.”  
“No no, I'm fine,” the hunter is quick to reassure, but the angel just tilts his head. Maybe it was the tone of his voice, but it could also be the blood collecting in his cheeks that gave him away.  
“Okay,” he finally gives in after a couple of seconds of silence, “Maybe I'm a bit nervous about this.” His hand flings in the air between the two of them. How elegant, Dean scolds himself and bites the inside of his cheek.  
“What makes you nervous?” Questions the angel calmly and Dean huffs, but it sounds more defensive than amused.  
“What makes me nervous?” Dean's sarcasm can't hide the shiver in his voice completely, “Where do I start? You being an angel, for example. Us being two dudes. Well, one dude and a celestial being in the body of a dude. My tendency to fuck up everything I touch. The way you look at me right now. I...”  
Gasping for air Dean has to stop his sudden flow of words. Cas is still staring at him, his expression unreadable. “Would you rather have me look away?” Even though the angel's face might not be giving anything away, the way he pronounces the words make it seem like he doesn't like the thought.  
“No, dude, fuck,” Dean scratches the back of his neck, searching for words, “It's just... You are...” The hunter sighs and Cas narrows his eyes in an effort to understand the meaning behind the fragments of sentences. Finally Dean settles on: “I can't possible hold you to me, Cas.”  
Without even hesitating the angel replies: “You are everything that holds me, Dean.”  
“Don't say that,” the human mutters when he feels his gut wrenching. The small ball of hope nudges against his insides and he pushes it down again.  
“What do you want me to do?” Asks the angel, and Dean wants to scream 'Promise me you won't leave!', but he can't. He is too afraid of what Cas might say to that. Instead he mutters “Kiss me...”  
At first he isn't even sure he said it loud enough for Cas to hear, but when he glances at the angel he sees the hint of a smile on his face. Cas gets up from his chair and sits down on the bed, right next to Dean. The hunter can hear the blood rushing through his ears and he stares at the other man's lips, a deep pink but cracked because the angel doesn't take care of them well enough. His breath hitches when Cas leans in, and he closes his eyes.  
It feels just like it had earlier, familiar and warm, exciting and calming at the same time. When Dean cups the angel's cheek with his hand his first intuition is to be irritated by the stubble, but then he feels his heart skip a beat in excitement and he rubs his thumb over it, taking in the sensation. His lips are tingling where Cas' touch them, and Dean can't help himself but get more urgent, putting some of his fear behind his movements, stealing the reassurance he needs from the angel's lips. Without thinking about it he leaves Cas' mouth, placing kisses along his jaw and down his neck. The feeling of the bearded skin against his lips makes Dean think his heart might jump straight out of his ribcage, and it gets even worse when Cas says his name and his voice is hoarse and deep. Before he leaves a mark on the angels neck he breaks away, blushing and ashamed of his actions.  
“Its... I'm-”  
Before Dean can finish saying 'I'm sorry,' Cas' lips are back on his, and an undefinable sound escapes his mouth as the angel runs a hand into his hair and pulls him closer.  
When they finally part they are both panting, speechless and blushing. Dean feels like Cas has taken his panic from him. The angel didn't say it, but he showed Dean: He needs Dean just as much as Dean needs him.

\------------------------------------------------------

The next days are dominated by longing stares, a lot of blushing on Dean's part and short stolen kisses behind closed doors. If Sam notices anything, he doesn't let it show, and they just kind of keep their everyday life going. They hunt down a single vampire in a town so close to them that they don't even have to rent a room for the night and start watching The Big Bang Theory with Cas, because it gives Sam and Dean something to laugh about and the angel enjoys correcting the science that they show. Cas begins to simply belong into their life at the bunker. When Sam gets up in the morning, he makes three cups of coffee, and when they are ready, Cas will join him from his night spend reading in the library. Once Dean emerges from his bedroom he usually finds them at the kitchen table, discussing some kind of information from the lore. It always has him smiling, seeing his little brother and his... well, his brother and Cas together in the morning.  
The way he has become used to the sight of them both makes the punch to his stomach even more painful when he walks in on Sam alone one morning. He interrupts Sam's greeting and immediately asks: “Where's Cas?”  
The younger Winchester raises an eyebrow as if he has to spell out the obvious: “Probably angel business?”  
“What is he doing?” Questions Dean, grabbing his cup of coffee and sitting down on the other side of the table. He can't ignore how his foot is restlessly bouncing up and down out of its own accord.  
“I don't know,” replies Sam, a spoon full of cereal in his mouth, “He didn't say. He never does.”  
“When did...” starts Dean, but he stops himself when Sam looks at him with his brow furrowed in confusion. So instead he gets up, hitting his leg on the edge of the table in the process, tells his little brother he forgot something in his room and leaves the kitchen.  
His heart is hammering against his chest when he grabs his phone from the desk in his room, and for a second he doesn't dare to actually look at it. He takes a deep breath, turns on the screen and the small bundle of hope that had stirred awake again painfully rips into pieces. There are no messages and no missed calls. Dean stares at his phone, trying to keep calm.  
'He doesn't have to tell me when he has to go somewhere,' he tells himself, 'he never has. Why would he do it now?'  
But something in his mind whispers: 'Shouldn't it be different now?'  
His hand starts shaking when he thinks about the good-night-kiss the day before, short and sweet.  
'No need to panic,' Dean argues, 'He will be back. I'm sure he'll be back.'

///

Hours tick by and the angel doesn't return. Dean isn't able to concentrate, looking at his phone every couple of minutes. His silent reassurances get less and less effective. Around lunch he thinks of calling Cas, but he doesn't know what to say. The thought comes back every so often, at least every time the clock shows another hour has passed. Noon comes and goes.  
'He wouldn't just leave like this,' Dean tries to calm himself. The other voice in his head responds:  
'He always leaves like this. No word, no goodbye, just poof.'  
'He always comes back,' repeats Dean and presses his eyes shut.  
'Sometimes weeks pass,' the voices reminds him and Dean shudders. The “No” he whispers is silent and before he can think about it he is calling the angel, clinging to the phone as if it is his lifebelt.  
It takes him a moment to connect the quiet ringing form somewhere in the bunker to the call he is making. Following the sound he ends up in front of the room that they call Cas', even though he barely uses it. Since he doesn't own anything and he has no need to sleep it looks like every other unused room in the bunker. Except for the silver device that is laying on the desk, singing a preinstalled ringtone into the empty room. Dean lets his hand sink down.  
'Cas hasn't taken his phone with him.'  
He can only stare at the thing, still playing the same melody over and over again.  
'Why hasn't he taken his phone?'  
'He doesn't want to be contacted,' the mean voice in his head tells him.  
Dean tries to ignore it.  
'He forgot it here.”  
'Angels don't forget things,' answers the voice and a shiver runs down his spine.

///

Dean doesn't sleep that night. He is laying in bed, staring into the darkness and rolling over ever so often. Time after time he tells himself that he should have seen it coming and that it shouldn't hurt as much as it does. It is Cas, he wasn't settling down like humans did, he had things to do. That doesn't mean he won't come back. He will be back, in a couple of days. Weeks, tops.  
But the smashed plant of hope inside him tells him that he doesn't know how to cope until then. He can't even call or text the angel.  
Cas had never spend the night in his room, but to Dean it still feels empty.  
'Get used to it,' he tells himself, bitterly.  
'It is just like before you met Cas. It has always been like this.'  
A quiet voice asks again: 'But shouldn't it be different now?'

///

When midnight comes and goes he turns the light back on, giving up on sleeping for the night. He tries to watch something on his laptop, but nothing is able to take his mind off the fact that Cas is gone. Sometimes he feels like his brain only consisting of a single thought: 'Cas'. While he is staring at the screen with his arms crossed and without even knowing what is happening in the show, the air around him shifts. Before he realises what is going on a person appears at the edge of his field of vision and a familiar voice says “Hello, Dean.”  
In his sleep deprived state of mind he isn't able to understand and out of shock he jumps away from the figure. The hand that wants to catch him misses the mattress and then Dean is falling, taking the covers with him to the ground. He finds himself laying on his back, on foot still up on the bed, staring at the ceiling.  
'Cas,' his mind is able to produce, and 'he's back.'  
“Dean?” The angels voice is alarmed and in a split second he is next to him, searching his body for potential injuries. The hunter wants to answer, wants to say he's fine, but something sits in his throat and he can't. The emotions from the day well up inside him and threaten to spill when Cas holds two fingers to his forehead.  
“You are not injured, Dean,” Cas states, his eyes still rushing over the hunter's body, “So why aren't you talking? I am sincerely sorry that I scared you. I was just too impatient to use the doors.”  
Dean wants to make a snarky comment, but what comes out of his mouth is a quiet whimper.  
The angel's eyes widen, Cas' probably being as surprised as Dean is, and there is a hint of panic in his voice when he pleads: “Please talk to me, Dean. What is going on?”  
When Dean finds his voice again, it breaks as he tries to use it. The words still leave his mouth, though: “I... you were gone.”  
“It was just an errant,” states Cas, his head tilted in confusion.  
“I didn't know.” Dean wants to protest, but is just sounds desperate. He hates himself for it, but can't help it.  
“But Sam did?” Asks the angel, apparently uncertain what kind of human protocol to use for the situation. For a second Cas freezes when a suppressed whine escapes Dean's throat. Then he reaches for the hunter, pulling him up with superhuman strength from the spot he had landed on when he fell and into his arms. Dean ends up half sitting on Cas' lap, half leaning against his chest, and feeling the other man finally has him calm down. Kind of awkwardly Cas places his arms around Dean, as if he is uncertain how this is supposed to work.  
One part of Dean wants to push Cas away, bring some distance between them and end what feels dangerously close to cuddling, but the other part is feeling intense relieve by the closeness and that one wins. When he feels more confident that he won't just produce embarrassing sounds he whispers: “I thought you left again.”  
“I am so sorry, Dean,” Cas whispers back, and there is actual remorse audible, “I didn't think it would affect you like this.”  
Dean turns to face the other man, frowning: “How did you think I would react?”  
Cas avoids meeting his eyes as he responds quietly: “I though you would like some space.”  
“What?” Dean asks confused, followed by “Why?”  
Cas doesn't reply, but Dean just waits for him to answer. When he finally does, his words are rushed, even though his expression doesn't give anything away: “I though if I gave you enough space, you wouldn't get tired of me and send me away.”  
Dean's brain refuses to understand Cas' words in the beginning, and once he does, it feels like a punch to the face. “Fuck, Cas,” he whispers and gently places his forehead against the angel's, closing his eyes. Cas doesn't say anything, and Dean is uncertain if he is still scared Dean might throw him out or if something else keeps him from speaking. The words physically hurt Dean when he says them out loud, but he knows he has to do it: “I'm not... I'll never kick you out, Cas.”  
“Then I am not going to leave,” answers the angel quietly and Dean's heart jumps violently.  
Dean can't remember who initiated it, but suddenly their mouths are pressed together. The kiss is desperate, hot and close but it doesn't feel like enough, so Dean cautiously licks Cas' lower lip. The mixture of sigh and moan that rolls over Cas' mouth causes heat to pool in the hunters stomach. The angel's lips part further and then his tongue nudges against Dean's, and the hunter feels like somebody lighted fireworks in his body. Cas' tongue is hot and strong, and it explores Dean's mouth just like Dean's explores his. It's not determined and well executed, but instead it is new and exciting, hot and wet and making Dean's blood boil. Judging by the barely audible little noises Cas makes while they kiss he isn't opposed to it, either.  
Sooner than he likes Dean has to pull away and catch his breath. Cas looks him straight in the eyes and the hunter could swear there is a new shimmer in them, something deep and personal that not many people get to see. He glances down at the angel's lips and they are still slightly parted, red and wet and he can't help but smile. It screams 'mine' like nothing else has before.  
Out of curiosity he breaths: “So how does that feel to an angel?”  
Dean should have expected to be surprised, but he still has to chuckle at Cas' answer: “Like liquid honey shimmering in the setting sun of a beautiful autumn day.”  
“Doesn't sound too bad,” commentates Dean and Cas agrees:  
“Quite the contrary.”

\-------------------------------------------

After that particular painful day for both of them Cas actually begins to make the bunker into something of a home for him, too. Dean feels like punching himself for being the reason Cas hadn't dared to do it before, but he loves the sight of the angel getting comfortable.  
Castiel gets himself a library card to the New York Public Library (perks of being able to travel where he wants within seconds) and from that day on stacks of books make Cas' room his own. When he joins Sam and Dean shopping he also gets a small potted plant for his room and even though the brothers wonder how he does it, it survives in the room without sunlight. The angel also acquires a showering kit, because even though he doesn't need to, Cas explains he likes the feeling of it.  
Together they get rid of a ghoul two states over, and with three hunters against a single monster it almost feels too easy. Not that Dean is going to complain – he hadn't felt more at peace in ages.

The most dangerous thing to happen to him in a while is how he chokes on his coffee when Cas, sitting across the table from him since Sam is on a run, innocently asks: “Can we go on a date?”  
“What?” He coughs at the attempt to remove the coffee from his lungs. Once he has stopped, the angel explains calmly:  
“I was wondering if you would be okay with us going on a date.”  
“Um...” Dean stutters and eyes Cas, trying to figure out what the angel might understand by the term 'date'. When he can't find an answer, he decides to just ask: “What do you mean by... date?”  
The expression on Cas' face still doesn't change when he shrugs his shoulders – a gesture Dean has come to really like – and suggests: “To my understanding a date involves two people spending time together with the intent to be close to one another in a romantic way. As far as I know common places to do so are restaurants, cinemas, parks and apparently boats, especially gondolas in Venice.”  
Dean doesn't know how to respond to Cas' explanation – that could come straight from a dictionary. Something in his mind wants to scream 'Yes!' and leave right now, but something else is quietly stating 'That sounds very serious.' At the same time he scolds himself 'We've been freaking French kissing for days now, that should be at least on the same level of seriousness.'  
The angel eventually rips his attention away from the voices in his mind arguing when he calmly states, his eyes focused on the cup of coffee in his hands: “We don't need to. It was just an idea.”  
“No!” Dean bursts out, “I mean yes! I didn't... We can do that, is what I wanted to say.” His cheeks suddenly feel very hot and he fumbles with the mug in his hands. The way Cas' eyes light up and he gives him one of his rare smiles has Dean's guts feel like he is driving a roller coaster, but he manages to ask: “Did you have something particular in mind?” When the angel shakes his head Dean takes a deep breath.  
“Okay. How about... how about I'll think of something and we'll go out tonight?” The hunter's heart is hammering in his throat.  
“I would like that very much,” responds Cas and finishes his coffee, “I'll take a shower, then,” he announces and gets up. Before he is complacently out of the door the question that was worrying Dean slips from his lips: “Cas, is this your first date?”  
“Yes, Dean,” the angel beams at him before he wanders to the bathrooms.  
His head bright red a single thought crosses his mind again and again:  
'Don't fuck this up, Dean Winchester.'

///

Half an hour later, when Sam comes back from his run, his head is just as red as Dean's had been before. Dean is still sitting at the table in the kitchen, his phone in his hands. His little brother gets himself a big glass of water before he falls into the seat where Cas had sat earlier.  
“What, no nasty comment about me exercising?” Teases Sam, a big grin on his face.  
Dean chuckles, but it doesn't feel right. He has to tell Sammy that he and Cas will be out for the evening, and the thought makes his heart race. “I need to tell you something,” he bursts out without a warning, and since he normally avoids everything that has to do with words he immediately has Sam's attention.  
“I'm all ears,” his brother assures him and Dean can feel his cheeks redden again. The older Winchester avoids eye contact and normally Sam would have already made at least two comments about his odd behaviour, but today he actually holds back.  
“I have a date tonight,” Dean finally manages to get out. It is the truth, even though it is missing a pretty important part.  
“Okay?” Questions Sam, since he knows, too, that a date wouldn't require them to sit down and talk about it. “With whom?” The hunter asks, and Dean nearly jumps when his brother hits the bullseye of his problem on the first guess.  
The older brother squirms in his seat, eyeing the exit as if he was about to run off.  
“Dean?” Sam inquires after a while, equal parts concerned and curious, “I'm not gonna judge,” he adds.  
The first time Dean tries to say the name the letters kind of get stuck in his throat, making the sound that leaves his mouth undecipherable. “What?” Sam has to ask and leans closer. Dean clears his throat and ties again: “Cas.”  
This time the word comes over his lips, hanging in the air for a second while Dean's heart stops. To him it feels like an eternity, even though Sam doesn't actually hesitate to answer: “Cool. I'm happy for you guys.”  
Dean raises his eyebrows and croaks: “Really?”  
“Sure,” Sam grins, “I have thought something might be going on between you two a couple of times already,” The blush on Dean's face deepens, “So yeah, you two go enjoy yourselves. You seem to have a good influence on each other.” Before Dean can protest on principle, Sam continues teasingly: “But I have to say, I'm kind of sad to stay behind at the bunker while you two have fun.”  
“Could drop you off at a bar,” suggests Dean, still not to certain his voice will do what he wants it to do.  
The younger hunter giggles: “Nah thanks. Don't want to get stuck in town if you decide to spend the night in a cheap motel room.”  
“Sam!” Exclaims Dean and gets to his feet to hide the way he blushes even more. The giggle turns into laughter, and before Dean has made his way out of the kitchen his little brother calls after him: “But please do get a room if you plan to do something, the walls in the bunker aren't exactly soundproof!” Dean wishes for a hole in the ground that would just swallow him whole.

///

Following Cas' example Dean takes a long shower. Even though he doesn't think the angel would, a small part of his brain wonders if Cas expects them to... to go all the way tonight. Either way, showering is never a bad idea.  
The thought comes back up when he stands in front of his dresser, looking down on his clothes and suddenly feeling overtaxed. He doesn't know what Cas expected from this evening, so he doesn't know how to behave. Is it just a casual dinner, like some they had before? Or is it more serious, more formal perhaps?  
Dean is able to put on some boxers and a pair of socks before he frowns again. T-shirt and jeans? Or would Cas want him to wear a suit? It feels like he is going crazy.  
“This is stupid,” he eventually tells himself and throws on a random shirt and jeans. Determined to no longer feel like a teenager he walks across the hall to Cas' room. Only when he has already knocked he realizes that he is red again. At this point, it seems to be a rather permanent state.  
“Come in,” the familiar deep voice calls from inside and interrupts his thoughts. Cas sits on his bed, apparently doing nothing but staring at the wall on the other side of the room. For a second Dean awkwardly stands at the door before he decides to sit down on the chair at the desk.  
“Sam knows,” Dean informs the angel.  
“How did he react?” Asks Cas, turning to look at Dean.  
“Well,” replies the hunter while twisting the seam of his shirt between his fingers, “he kinda suspected it might happen.”  
Cas actually chuckles, but the sound sort of breaks at the end. The unfamiliar noise has Dean worried.  
“Are you all right, Cas?”  
“I...” starts the angel before he has to swallow, “I might be experiencing nervousness.”  
“Oh,” breaths Dean, “Yeah, me too. Don't know what to expect.”  
“Me neither,” answers Cas and it is only then that Dean notices the way the angel is shuffling his feet – something Dean has never seen him do before.  
The hunter takes a deep breath. “How about this,” he suggests and the angel looks back up to him, “No pressure.” Dean gestures with his hands, maybe to stress his words, maybe to calm his nerves, “We do what we would like to do, and if we feel uncertain, we just ask. Without anyone judging.”  
Cas nods even before Dean has finished, and the hunter can see how some of the tenseness leaves Cas' shoulders.  
“I'll start, if that's fine with you,” begins Dean and runs a hand through his damp hair.  
“Certainly, go ahead,” replies Cas, and his voice has its usual steadiness back.  
“What would you like us to wear?”  
The angel looks down on himself. He is wearing the trousers and shirt of his suit. Dean suddenly wonders if the angel even perceives what he is wearing. “Something comfortable?” Cas eventually returns the question.  
“Okay,” Dean nods, “So no suit for me. If you want to, you can have something to wear from me. Or go like this, as you like it.”  
“What are we going to do tonight?” Cas suddenly bursts out.  
“Um,” Dean has to think for a second, “Whatever we want. Have something on your mind?”  
“I don't want to be on a boat.”  
Dean has to hold back a giggle, reminding himself that they didn't want to judge. Cas had probably been as worried about the question as he had been about his choice of clothes.  
“Okay, no boats,” agrees Dean calmly, “How about we go have dinner?”  
The angel seems to let out a breath in relive. “Yes. And maybe a park afterwards?”  
“Dinner and park,” Dean repeats with a smile. “Sounds like a plan.”


	3. Perks of dating an Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We won't do anything you don't want to do.”  
> “I can want something and be nervous about it, Dean.”
> 
> As in: Cas and Dean are figuring out more about their relationship.

The rest of the day goes by painfully slow. Dean kind of fears the joined lunch with Sam, not feeling comfortable enough with what is going on between him and Cas to be teased about it yet. But it turns out he didn't need to worry, as Sam is very well behaved. Maybe he can see the nervousness in both their little gestures of uncertainty, maybe he just isn't that interested, Dean doesn't care. The only thing he can think of is the evening he was about to have with Cas, and his worry of screwing it up. He has never been good with romantic stuff, most of the time because he wasn't actually dating women but having one night stands. There isn't much romance in that. But even the few times things got more serious between him and a woman he tried to avoid those sappy emotional moments. Not that he really has an explanation why he does that.  
But this time around, it is different. He wants Cas to enjoy their time and make him feel like he belongs – especially since he had feared being pushed away again for so long. Dean has to get this right.  
  
///

Ages later they finally sit in the Impala together. Cas is wearing his usual white shirt from his suit, but his legs are in jeans Dean had given him. They are a washed out black and it makes Cas look less formal, more like he isn't currently working but having some time off. Dean had tried to kind of match him and picked out a shirt for himself, even though his is a deep blue and his jeans are just a random pair that was clean and didn't have any holes.  
Once they are on the road Dean doesn't let go of the steering wheel, so his hands have something to hold on to and can't give away that he is nervous.  
“There is a steak house that is supposed to be fairly decent about have an hour from here,” Dean suggests, not certain what Cas might have in mind, “We could go there, but if you have any other suggestion I'm all ears.”  
“No, that sounds good,” nods Cas and gives him a short smile that makes Dean's heart swell. The restaurant wasn't something they would normally visit, because most of the time they didn't spend much money on food. But that was kind of the point of a date, wasn't it? To do something you normally wouldn't do.  
They talk about everything and nothing while they drive. The conversation is light and it takes some of the edge off the situation, until Dean's knuckles aren't white anymore from his tight grip on the steering wheel and Cas stops tugging at his shirt. When Dean pulls into the parking lot and finds a spot for Baby, he looks over to Cas to say something only to find the angel gone. Before he is able to panic the door on his side of the car is opened and and Cas smiles down at him, obviously happy with himself for picking up that human habit. Dean's heart jumps as he climbs out of the car and he nods at Cas: “Thank you, how very attentive.”  
“It is my pleasure,” replies the angel and Dean is sure that he will never get over how he always blushes at the way Cas says 'You're welcome'.

///

The steak is good, but Dean doesn't think it is worth that much money. Cas has a burger that he states tastes pleasingly, but he admits eating isn't as pleasurable to him anymore as it was when he was human. Dean kind of feels out of place in the restaurant, he isn't used to being surrounded by so much... glamour and cleanliness. But Cas being there with him makes it worth it. The pie they serve is excellent though, only being outdone by Dean watching Cas leaning forward and accepting a piece of it from Dean's fork. Not that he hadn't been able to watch the angel eat all evening, but Cas taking something that Dean held out for him feels somehow different. They leave the restaurant rather soon, deciding they would rather talk while strolling through the park. Any place where they on't have to yell over the voice of a lot of other people, to be precise.  
The word 'park' might be an exaggeration for the piece of lawn and the couple of trees on the side of a local river, but its good enough for them. The sun has set by now and street lights are illuminating the small path along the water. Some of the benches they walk by are occupied, by couples looking out onto the water, by people sleeping on them or small groups of friends drinking cans of beer. Something about the situation makes Dean sneak his hand into Cas', and even in the dim light of the street lamps he can see the corners of his mouth twitch. The angel's hand is warmer than his, and it is bigger then the female hands Dean has held before. Somehow that makes the feeling better – Dean doesn't feel like he has to be the strong one, since Cas is strong, too. Cas' hands are rough, just like his lips always are. Dean vows to himself to get the angel some hand cream.  
“I wasn't certain how you would feel about showing affection when other people are around,” states Cas, not really formulating it as a question.  
“Why?” Asks Dean, still preoccupied by the feeling of Cas' hand in his.  
“You expressed concern about our bodies being of the same gender,” answers the angel and if Dean isn't mistaken, there is a hint of worry in his voice.  
“Oh,” Dean looks at Cas, but the other man avoids his eyes, “I didn't mean it like that. I don't mind if people see us.”  
Like he always does when he doesn't understand something, Cas leans his head to his side. “Could you elaborate that, please?” requests the angel so formally that Dean has to grin before he remembers the question. Then he blushes.  
“Cas, I don't mind what people think about me. I never really did.” He runs his hand through his hair and concentrates on the path in front of his feet. “When I said that I'm nervous about us both being guys...” Dean has to swallow and quickly looks at Cas, who is patiently listening, “I meant I'm nervous because... I don't really know how it works. All of this,” Dean's hand flings through the air again, pointing at them, “This is different when two men are involved. And I don't have any experience with it.”  
“You don't have to be nervous about it,” Cas reassures him in a warm voice, “I don't have any experience, either.”  
“Aren't you nervous about it?” Dean questions with honest curiosity.  
For a moment, the angel furrows his brows and thinks. When he looks back at Dean he calmly asks: “About what part in particular?”  
Dean gets lost in the intensity of his gaze. “Tell me about all of the parts,” he then pleads.  
Cas looks away, apparently interested in the trees to their side.  
“I am not concerned about how others might perceive me based on our body's gender. That is a very human invention.” The angel begins slowly. “And as far as things like this goes,” he holds up their tangled hands, “or kissing you, I am not nervous because you are male.”  
Dean waits while they stroll by a couple of snogging teenagers. When they reach the next bench and Cas still hasn't continued, he cautiously asks: “But?”  
The angel shakes his head, and Dean doesn't have to look to know his cheeks have turned red. The hunter tries to imitate Sam's puppy voice when he pleads: “Please?” It seems to be working. Cas sighs and the words are quiet, but he does continue:  
“There is the part about physical closeness. The one that involves more than holding hands.” Dean can feel how his heartbeat is speeding up and something pulls at his guts – in a good way. “And I am nervous about that one.”  
“Don't be,” Dean responds, in a voice that he hopes sounds comforting, “We won't do anything you don't want to do.”  
“I can want something and be nervous about it, Dean.” The hunter is certain somebody started a fire in his lower belly. For a moment, he doesn't know how to reply, the sheer thought of being... intimate with the angel... it makes his brain stop working. He swallows.  
“You want that?” Is all he manages to get out in the end.  
Cas looks at him, his brows furrowed in slight confusion. “Yes,” he states seriously, “at least eventually. Don't you?”  
“Course,” stammers the hunter and his cheeks are burning, “I just... I wasn't sure if that was something an angel would enjoy.”  
“There are angels that feel less emotions than me that have partaken in sexual relationships with humans,” Cas reminds Dean calmly.  
“Right,” the human mutters, scratching his neck, “Right. And you're nervous.” He only repeats it because it sounds... unreal. Cas wanting to be intimate. With him of all people. And being insecure about it.  
“I don't have any expertise in it involving two men,” Cas explains and suddenly he sounds ashamed, “it has me worried I might not know what to do when...” His voice dies out. Over his hammering heartbeat Dean searches for something comforting to say, but he is too nervous himself.  
“I get it,” he settles on in the end, “I don't really know, either. But we'll figure it out, okay? Together, without any pressure, just like today.”  
“No pressure,” Cas echoes and nods. Some tenseness seems to leave the angels shoulders when they drop the topic.  
“So, what else do you want to do on a date?” Dean wants to know from Cas. Before the angel is able to answer they get interrupted by something hitting Dean's back. He immediately turns his head and his free hand is at his lower back. Silently he curses himself for not bringing his gun on his date. Only when what hit him falls to the ground with a dull, metal clattering Dean recognizes it as an empty beer can. The sound is accompanied by drunk cheering of a group of teenagers they had just passed and a homophobic insult Dean wasn't even going to repeat in his thoughts. The hunter is about to shrug his shoulders about 'hormone influenced assholes' when he feels the angel's hand in his tense. Looking at Cas he notices his narrowed eyes and lips pressed into a thin line and he somehow gets the feeling the angel is about to smite the group of drunk teens.  
“Cas,” Dean says with the calmest voice he can think of and places his free hand on the angel's chest, “not worth your anger.”  
Cas' voice is low and raspy and filled with celestial anger: “They called you-”  
“I know,” Dean states, “they're just drunk assholes.”  
One of the more daring adolescents yells “Who are you calling an asshole?” followed by another nasty curse word. If Dean isn't mistaken Cas starts to shiver and suddenly the air around them changes - along with everything else.  
The ground beneath their feet is no longer gravel but an uneven stone path, the trees are gone and so is the rest of the park, instead they are standing in front of a big canal with houses opposite them. Dean looks around.  
“Where are we?”  
“Venice,” grumbles Cas, his face still deformed by anger.  
“Venice?” repeats Dean disbelieving.  
“Yes,” confirms the angel, staring at the water.  
“Venice,” Dean says again with his eyebrows raised, resembling a broken record player.  
“It is said to be romantic,” comments Cas.  
For a while they both just look at their surroundings. There is nobody outside but them, Dean guesses it might be the middle of the night around here. The houses look small and old, and boats are basically everywhere you look. It kind of smells, and Dean wonders if you get used to it when you live here.  
Once Dean feels like he has a general idea where they are he remembers the tight grip of the angry angel next to him again.  
“I thought you didn't care what other people think?” The hunter asks and gently rubs his thumb about the back of the other man's hand.  
“I said I didn't mind what they might think about me. I might deserve to to be called names. But they had no right to say that about you.” Cas corrects him with narrowed eyes.  
“I don't... You... Wait.” Dean stutters before he shakes his head and tries to sort his thoughts. When he speaks again he raises his hand to stress what he was trying to say. He firmly states: “You wouldn't deserve to be called something like that, either.” Cas just looks at the water in front of them, his expression undecipherable apart from the last traces of anger. The hunter adds a serious “I mean it.”  
“We both might have to work on our perception of our self worth,” Cas comments eventually. Dean can only shrug and nod in agreement to that.  
“Think it'll help if I show you what you're worth to me?” Questions the hunter and a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. Cas looks at him and tilts his head, but before he is able to respond Dean presses his lips to the angel's.  
The kiss starts out sweet; soft and gentle touches that Dean hopes show Cas that he means his words. He cups the angel's cheek with the hand that isn't holding on to Cas', and he thinks the sensation of the stubble beneath his fingers might be his new favourite feeling. A surprised happy noise leaves his mouth when Cas' fingers glide into his hair. The angel chuckles - yes, he chuckles, when did he start doing that? - into his mouth and continues to explore the back of Dean's head with his fingers. Goosebumps crawl over Dean's skin and the gentle kiss becomes more urgent, their tongues quickly finding each other. Dean wants to have the angel closer, and so he untangles his fingers from Cas' and puts his now free hand against the other's lower back and gently pulls at the angel. With no resistance Cas takes a small step that closes the last remaining space between them, and just like that Cas is everywhere. Dean needs to breathe, but he refuses to stop kissing the angel, so he lets his mouth wander along Cas' jaw and to his neck. When Cas tilts his head so the hunter can reach the sensible skin on his throat better Dean's stomach jumps in excitement; and when the hand on the back of his head applies gentle, approving pressure, a shivering breath escapes him. For a moment he is distracted from the feeling of the skin underneath his lips when warm fingers find their way to his lower back and shift just a few inches down. There aren't quite below his belt, but not far from it, and Dean has to actively remind himself to breath. He moves his lips up to the angel's ear and his voice is raspy when he asks: “Cas... Do you... do you know what a hickey is?”  
Dean might imagine it, but he thinks a small shiver runs through the other man's body at the sound of his voice. The angel doesn't even answer, he just slightly shakes his head.  
“Its... its a light bruise that... if you are involved with somebody... it's kind of a sign of belonging to someone...”  
“I think I have seen that before,” comments Cas, and when the hunter silently goes back to kissing the exposed skin on his neck Cas understands. “Yes,” is all he whispers.  
Dean doesn't even know why, but the idea has buzzed around his head for a while now. Maybe it is his way of showing that he wants Cas to be his and only his, since he is terrible with words. Maybe it's something else, he can't quite tell. Whatever the case, the angel's consent sends butterflies flying in his stomach. Carefully he pulls Cas' shirt a bit to the side and lets his mouth wander closer to his shoulder – just in case Cas doesn't want to run around with a visible hickey or a scarf for the next days. He places a couple of soft kisses before he actually gently sucks on the warm skin, and when he hears Cas' hum from low in his throat Dean feels like he might actually loose his mind being around the angel. Soon he lets go again, not wanting to cause the bruise to get too big or purple, and returns to leaving soft kisses all over Cas' neck. Before he can wander to his lips however, the hand in Dean's hair pushes his head gently, but determinedly to the side, and before he really understands what Cas is doing the angels lips ghost across his neck, leaving a burning sensation in their path. The hand in his hair wanders to the front of his shirt and – Dean's heart stutters dangerously for a second – the angel is opening the top button of his shirt. Heat starts to pool somewhere low in Dean's guts and he bites his cheek to stop his imagination from thinking about where they could go from here...  
But the angel doesn't go further, he just places his lips on a similarly easy to cover up spot where Dean's shoulder and neck meet, and the hunter can't help himself making a short and embarrassing moan when Cas imitates what Dean had done to him. Cas takes longer before he breaks away from Dean – but the latter couldn't care less. As far as he is concerned, the sensation of Cas' lips suckling on his skin is something that he could never get tired of. He can't control the kind of protesting sound he makes when Cas leaves his neck and the angel has obviously heard it, since once he looks at Dean, the hint of a smug smile is forming on his lips.  
Dean wants to say something along the lines of 'stop it' or make a sarcastic comment, but somehow the situation holds him back.  
“You asked what else I wanted to do on a date before we got interrupted,” Cas states calmly into the silence, and Dean feels like it had been ages ago that he had asked that question. The angel waits for him to respond, so he nods and smiles at him.  
“My answer would have been kissing,” confesses Cas and smiles back, and suddenly the hunter feels like his heart might explode with all the affection he experiences. “How convenient,” the human grins and leans back in for another kiss.

///

Some time later – there is no way for Dean to tell how much time they actually spend next to a canal in Venice kissing – Cas teleports them back to the Impala. Even though the hunter didn't want to stop kissing and touching his angel, they came close to a point where they had to either stop, or Dean would have been in the embarrassing situation to explain why he was... poking Cas. In a way he is glad he managed to avoid that.  
For the first part of their drive home neither of them talk, both occupied by thinking about their evening. The way a small smile has settled on Cas' face makes Dean... happy. There is no other way to describe it.  
It is Cas who speaks after a while, his voice low and concentrated: “What do you like on a date?”  
Dean casts him a quick glance and the angel's gaze is steady, his head tilted. The hunter takes a moment to think about the question. In his mind he tries to work out what a date means to him, how he had experienced dates with women before, but he quickly realises that there is no way of comparing his previous dates to the one he just had. None of them had been quite so... sincere. Honest. True.  
“This one was a pretty good example of a great date,” is the conclusion he comes to and smiles.  
“Would you say that it is over?” Cas asks and Dean looks at the angel, but the angel's expression doesn't give anything away about what he might be thinking. Dean has to admit, once he thinks about it, dates don't necessarily end when you get into the car – especially not if you get into the car with the person you have been on a date with. Images of what sometimes happens later into a date pop into his mind and he can feel how he is blushing again. He quickly reminds himself what the actual question was.  
He formulates his answer as another question: “Not if we don't want it to be?”  
Cas smiles, but doesn't reply otherwise. After a short pause the angel comments: “You didn't really answer my first question.”  
There are a lot of possible answers that come to his mind, some more sappy than others, but after just thinking about their date ending one stands out in particular. Dean blurts it out before thinks about it for too long and immediately blushes: “Spending the night.”  
Suddenly realising how suggestive his words may sound he stutters and babbles: “I didn't mean... I wasn't thinking of... I didn't want to say dates have to end in... in sex... But I meant... like just sleeping, you know...”  
Dean doesn't know where the words come from, and he knows even less where the thoughts come from. On the few actual dates he had most of them had led to sex, but right now, he honestly hadn't meant it that way. Somewhere between the idea of their date ending and the one of him sleeping alone in his bed his brain had produced the image of the angel besides him at night, and it genuinely had been an innocent thought. The hunter is still babbling.  
“Not that you have to sleep, I know that... Fuck, I don't know what I'm saying... 'm sorry, Cas...”  
Before he can embarrass himself even more the angel interrupts Dean, and the hunter shuts up, relieved that he has stopped talking before he can make the situation worse.  
Calmly Cas asks: “Can I spend the night in your room, Dean?”  
The humans jaw drops, and like an idiot (or a goldfish) he closes and opens his mouth a couple of times. Trying to wrap his head around the question Cas has asked, he suddenly wonders if the angel might have had a similar idea in mind when he initially asked Dean if their date was over, and if he wanted anything else. Once Dean realises he still hasn't answered he says the first thing that comes to his mind: “But you don't sleep?”  
“I don't,” agrees Cas and out of the corner of his eyes Dean sees movement that looks like the angel dropping his head, “I thought I could stay for you to fall asleep and do my research in your room. Watch over you.”  
Dean has heard those three words before. The last time Cas said them to him, he had immediately turned him down. He had found them to be creepy, only acceptable because Cas wasn't human and didn't know how they sounded. But now it was different. The thought of the angel staying with him, even though he didn't need to... Dean felt like his heart might explode.  
His voice sounded actually cool for all the emotions raging in Dean's body and he was surprised about it – it hadn't been the most reliable thing when Cas was around. But the words came from the bottom of his heart: “I think I'd like that.”  
The hunter's heart jumps when he feels Cas look at him. He, too, had to be taken aback just as much as Dean at how different his response was from the one he had given a few years earlier:  
That's not gonna happen.

///

Sammy greets them from his favourite spot in the library, laptop in front of him and apparently watching something: “You're back early. How was your evening?”  
Dean has a quick look at the clock for the first time that night. It is half past ten – not really early in his opinion. He isn't sure whether is brother actually thinks half past ten is too early to return from a date or if he is hinting at the fact that they didn't spend the night in a motel room, as he had suggested. The hunter decides not to question it.  
“It was awesome,” he answers instead, and Cas nods in agreement.  
Sam closes his laptop and gives them a warm smile – maybe he isn't actually teasing them. “Sounds great. What did you guys do?”  
While Dean is busy thinking about what to tell his little brother Cas is already answering – in his usual way, simply stating the facts: “We ate at a steakhouse, walked through a park and kissed in Venice.”  
“Venice?” Echoes Sam with his eyebrows raised, reminding Dean of his own reaction. Cas deadpans his answer with the same statement he had given Dean: “It is said to be very romantic.”  
A grin forms on Dean's face as he watches how his brother stares for a second, closes his eyes, shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something, only to close it again.  
“Um... so, was it? Romantic, I mean?” Sam's eyebrows are still raised in disbelief, very much to Dean's entertainment.  
The angel takes his question very seriously: “I don't actually know. I have to admit I have yet to understand the concept of romance in its details. I am going to take a quick shower,” he then changes the topic as if it is the most self-evident thing to do and nods to the brothers. Dean grins and Sam shakes his head when Cas leaves for the sleeping quarters.  
“So, Venice?” Sam repeats once Cas is out of hearing range. Dean just shrugs his shoulders.  
“Cas' idea. Perks of dating an angel, I guess.”  
“Wow, so you went on an actual date,” Sam notes and leans against the table, facing Dean. The older brother looks at him and furrows his brow: “Why wouldn't I?”  
“You n-” starts Sam, but interrupts himself as if he is rethinking his words, “You're serious about this, aren't you?”  
“Of course I am,” Dean sounds almost defensive about it. And maybe he is, more than he is willing to admit to himself.  
“You have to forgive me, but you haven't been the most serious type in the past,” Sam responds apologetically.  
“Yeah, well, this is different,” mutters Dean before he drops the topic and asks: “How was your evening?”  
“Good,” Sam accepts the lighter subject of discussion, “I spoke with Jody, she says hi. Apparently she has her hands full with Alex and Claire, but they are doing well.” Dean grins at the mention of the two daring girls, happy to hear that they are fine. “And then I just kind of spend some time with a new series I found. A lot of time, actually, but there was no lead for a new case and I thought-”  
“Yeah, you take some time off,” Dean reassures his little brother. “Glad to hear you had a good time.”  
“So, you wanna go back to your angel?” Sam asks and he can't quite hide his grin from Dean.  
“I'll take a shower,” the older Winchester answers evasive and Sam nods, now actually grinning, before they tell each other good night.

///

Dean actually showers again, even though he had done it in the morning already. It washes of the smell of the steakhouse and hopefully that of the canals in Venice, because even though he liked the view, he didn't want to smell like the place. The cool water also helps him calm down – think about some of the things Cas and him had talked about over the evening, because there is a lot to ponder on. And, even though the hunter doesn't like to admit it, the shower lessens the arousal that had been building in his lower belly ever since the topic of them being intimate came up. Dean is certain there would be time for that in the future, but they don't have to rush things. Essentially, they are both a bit new to this.  
In the end he takes more time in the shower than he planned on and when he ambles back into his room, he finds a quietly reading angel at his desk. The sheer sight of Cas sitting in his room like he belongs there makes Dean's heart stutter, and that hasn't even taken Cas' damp, sticky-up hair and sleepwear into account. He hadn't seen Cas this... domestic... well, since Dean had kicked him out of the bunker when he was a human.  
“You're wearing pjs,” the human observed and Cas looked up from his reading matter.  
“I thought it might be more appropriate for the situation,” he explains himself. When Dean just looks at him dumbstruck without moving he adds, “I can change back.”  
Finally Dean can free himself from his state of stupor. “No,” he comments in a soft voice, “don't. It's just... you...” He stammers while trying to find words that don't make him sound like a boy who is experiencing his first crush.  
Cas' calm and steady voice is like a lighthouse for his confused mind: “No pressure, no judging, Dean. Just tell me what you think.”  
“It makes you look like you belong. Like you'll stay,” confesses the hunter and even he notices how his voice is at the verge of breaking. As if somebody had given him instructions on how to behave as a human Cas walks over to Dean and gently pulls him into a hug. Dean hides his face in his neck and now he definitely feels like a love-struck teenager, smelling Cas' shampoo and his heart skipping a beat. But he couldn't care less.  
“I am staying,” the angel quietly promises and Dean sighs in relieve, fisting his hands into the thin material of Cas' sleepwear. It is a simple blue t-shirt with a print Dean hadn't been able to read and some grey sweatpants (Dean had no idea where the angel had gotten them), and the hunter thinks he hadn't ever liked an outfit better on Castiel's body. Especially because a part of the hickey is visible at the collar and it has Dean bite his cheek.  
“Do you want to go to sleep?” Questions Cas and Dean nods. It's not like he is tired from physical exhaustion, since apart from his walk with Cas he didn't actually do anything that day, but all the emotions must have drained his energy anyway.  
Dean slips under his covers, but the angel doesn't move. He watches as Dean invitingly pads next to him on the bed and frowns.  
“I don't know how to do this,” he states, and there might be a hint of embarrassment in his voice.  
Right, Dean thinks, angel incapable of social interactions. For a moment he had almost forgotten. So he warmly smiles at Cas and tries to sound reassuringly: “You can choose. For example, do you want to stay at the desk or get into bed with me?”  
For some reason the questions doesn't seem to make things easier for the angel, and if Dean would have to guess he would call what flashes across Cas' eyes an expression of panic. Before he can do anything about it the other man asks: “What would you prefer?”  
“No,” he shakes his head, “that's not what this is about. C'mere.”  
Hesitantly Cas pads over to his bed and sits on the edge of it. Dean reaches out and takes one of Cas' hands in his, soothingly stroking the back of it.  
“How is this? Does it feel too close?”  
Since the angel shakes his head he pads on the spot besides him again. “Try sitting on the bed. Like, really sit.” He suggests and this time Cas isn't as hesitant. It does look rather stiff, though, his back against the headboard and legs neatly extended. Dean mimics his position under the covers, moving closer so that their shoulders brush against each other. “How about now?”  
“I think I like it. How about you?”  
Dean suppresses his urge to roll his eyes at the fact that of course Cas would ask about him. He tries to keep his voice calm: “I'm perfectly fine with this. Wanna come under the covers?”  
Cas gets up to lift the covers, but before he gets back into bed Dean interrupts: “You could get your book and put it on the wall behind you. So you don't have to get up to get it. If you want,” he adds, just in case. So Cas goes for his book and when he passes the light switch the hunter throws in: “And could you get the light?”  
The second he sees Cas holding his book and reaching for the light switch something in his brain shifts and he says: “Wait, leave it on. How else would you be able to read?”  
“I am not depending on this light to see, Dean,” Cas informs him and the room goes dark.  
“You don't?” Dean asks when he listens to the movement in the room, since he can't see anything so shortly after the light is turned out.  
“No. My vision is better when it is on and I am not able to perceive as much colours as usual, but it is perfectly fine for reading.” The usual steadiness is back to Cas' voice as he explains his vision to Dean and the latter smiles: “You're awesome.”  
The mattress dips when Cas climbs under the covers and suddenly the warm body right next to him has Dean blushing. He can't deny that he has a sudden urge just to jump the angel and kiss him all over. Said angel interrupts his thoughts when he states: “You should lay down, Dean.”  
“Right,” the hunter mutters quietly and hopes red isn't one of the colours Cas can see in the darkness, since he feels like that is the only one present in his face at the moment. He moves until he is laying with his head on his pillow, facing the angel – at least the angels leg. Slowly his eyes get used to the darkness and he is able to make out a basic silhouette where Cas had to be.  
“So, how is this for you?”  
“It is good,” replies the angel, but it sounds like he is leaving something unspoken. So Dean cautiously probes: “But?”  
He can't really tell, but it feels and sounds like Cas is squirming next to him. The hunter waits patiently until Cas is asking: “Can you promise you will tell me if you don't want to do something?”  
“I promise.” Dean hadn't even hesitated.  
Cas sighs and his voice is only a whisper: “I think I am longing for physical contact.”  
Dean can hold back his giggle, but he smiles into the darkness – well his darkness, however it might look for Cas. “Dude, you are way too innocent,” he mumbles and moves closer to the angel, until he is right next to him and his body touches Cas' leg. Gently he places his arm around the angel's legs and rests his head against his hips. “How 'bout that?” He mumbles and he doesn't know how he would respond if Cas tells him he doesn't like it, because Dean couldn't like it any better.  
He is quickly proven wrong when Cas whispers “Perfect” and strokes Deans hair. The hunter hums happily.  
“Sleep well, Dean,” Cas murmurs and Dean mumbles a sleepy “Good night, Cas,” back at the angel before he quickly falls into a very comfortable sleep.


	4. I can still do this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets cursed, Dean and Cas kiss a bit, and then there's some talking. You know, the usual stuff.  
> (Yes, I'm bad at writing summaries.)

They kind of just become used to it. When the next night comes around, Dean is about to walk to the bathroom when he finds Cas in front of his door, a book in his hand and looking uncertain. The hunter just steps aside with a warm smile. The evening after Dean steals the book Cas had been reading from the library and places it next to his bed. Cas comes looking for it and stays. On the third night Dean finds Cas on his bed when he comes out of the shower, sitting with his book in his lap and waiting for him. Form there on out, they don't even have to talk about it anymore.  
In Dean's opinion the best thing about it is waking up with Cas still there. Most of the times the angel is still reading when he blinks up at him, but sometimes he finds Cas just watching him sleep. A few month ago he would have been creeped out, but now he just blushes and hugs him around the middle with a mumbled “good morning”.

Their every day routine gets thrown off when they hunt down a witch. They walk into a trap and Sam gets cursed before they are able to get rid of the witch, and within minutes Sam develops a high fever and a brutal cough. Before they can get him back to the bunker the younger Winchester is coughing up blood and fading in and out of conciousness. They abandon the Impala and Cas teleports them back to the bunker, and while Dean tucks his little brother into bed the angel is already on his way to work on breaking the curse. Dean doesn't leave Sammy's side, refreshing the the cool rags on his forehead once they get warm and helping him sit up when the next coughing fit shakes him violently. The trash can next to the bed fills with bloody tissues and Sam starts to black out for longer amounts of time.  
Dean is currently persuading Sam to drink some water when Cas comes back by teleporting directly into Sam's room.  
Straightforwardly Cas explains: “I found a spell that will lessen the effect of the curse.” He knees down and the things he had held in his arms spill onto the floor, a red candle rolling under the younger Winchester's bed.  
“Thanks, Cas,” croaks Sam before he starts coughing again, wincing and fisting his hand into the shirt over his chest. With a deep frown Dean holds out a couple of tissues and they get sprinkled red before whole drops of blood run from Sam's mouth. Dean pats his back while Sammy gags on the liquid in his throat.  
“Please hurry,” Dean pleads to Cas, relieved to see that the angel isn't paying attention to Sam but working on mixing some red powder with a bone that looks suspiciously small. Cas holds out a small metal bowl and instructs: “Get some blood in there the next time you have to cough, Sam.”  
Sarcasm drips from Sam's croaking voice when he comments: “Sure, great.” While Dean passes him the bowl Cas looks up at him with his brows furrowed: “I am truly sorry that I can't heal curses, Sam.”  
Sam can only formulate a “Don't be,” before he is shaking again, and when the coughing doesn't stop he eventually passes out. Dean catches his limp upper body while still holding on to the metal bowl filled with drops of blood and before he can call out to Cas for help the angel is next to him, taking the bowl and holding Sam's head as they gently lay him down onto his mattress.  
“Anything on how to break the curse?” Asks Dean while he pulls his huge brother into the semi-prone position so that he doesn't choke on his own blood.  
Cas sounds angry when he answers: “I can't tell what kind of curse this is yet, that is why I want to get us more time with this. But I am working on it, I promise.”  
Dean nods while watching Sam. His voice is barely audible: “Is it deadly?”  
A hand gently squeezes his shoulder. “No,” Cas reassures him, “Right now it isn't. Let's hope it stays that way.”  
The angel mixes some of his mysterious ingredients and begins to say things in a language Dean doesn't understand. After he blows out the candle Cas states: “Sam should get better now, Dean. I will continue looking for a cure.”  
Before Dean can answer, the air around him shifts and the angel is gone, leaving behind a weird smelling bowl and a smoking candle.  
Shortly after Sam gains his conciousness back and blinks at his big brother.  
“How' you feeling?” Dean questions and Sam just moans in response.

That night Dean doesn't leave Sam's side. Cas is right, the coughing fits become fewer, the fever goes down and Sam stays concious, but Sam is his little brother and Dean won't sleep well until he is fine again anyway. So he catches some minutes of sleep here and there, sitting on the chair or leaning his head on Sam's mattress. His younger brother tries to send him to bed, but quickly gives up, partially because he is too tired to argue, partially because he knows how stubborn Dean can be.  
Around half past eleven, just when Sam had fallen back asleep after waking both of them with another coughing fit, Dean's phone announces a new message. Only half awake Dean grabs it from the floor to find a new message from Cas:  
'I will keep researching tonight. Get some sleep, Dean.'  
The short two sentences warm Dean's heart. He is immensely thankful for Cas' dedication to help Sam on the one hand and on the other the hunter feels like the angel actually cares about him as well. Dean blames his needy response on his exhaustion as he types:  
'Come home soon'  
Dean sighs and the hint of a smile tugs as his lips when he reads Cas' reply:  
'As soon as I can.'

Another two days go by with Dean caring for his little brother, bringing him water, cooking soup and changing the wet rags on his forehead. Cas drops by to check in on them a couple of times, and when Sam is asleep he steals a quick kiss from Dean. Around midday on the second day Dean notices how Sam's temperature goes up again and the coughing becomes more violent. Around noon his younger brother passes out for the first time again and as the sun sets Sam is coughing so badly Dean is about to call Cas and ask him if they can repeat the spell; but the angel already appears out of thin air. His arms are again filled with stuff and for a second Dean is wondering when Cas had started to be able to read his mind when the other man announces: “I've got it.”  
Dean's sigh of relieve is only outdone by Sam's.  
For the amount of time it took Cas to work it out the spell is actually simple, and with another bowl of blood from Sam's next coughing fit Cas is able to break the curse. Once Cas lights the stuff in his bowl (Dean thinks he can spot some chicken feet in there, but no way is he going to ask) Sam's temperature simply drops back to normal and that is kind of it. Dean and Cas stay around for another 30 minutes even though Sam promises he feels fine, only extremely tired. Eventually Cas can convince Dean that Sam is healthy as ever and drags him out of his room – so Sam can get some rest, he explains, but Dean is pretty sure that's just one of the reasons. The angel makes him take a shower and he comes back to Cas already sitting on his bed. Dean's smile is covering his whole face.

When he just stares and doesn't move Cas pats the spot next to him, just like Dean did after their first date.  
“Come sit with me,” Cas asks, and Dean is happy to oblige. Sitting besides him the hunter holds out his hand and Cas takes it; and suddenly a lot of very sappy things to say come to his mind. 'I've missed you', for example, or 'It didn't feel like home without you'. Not that he was going to say them.  
He doesn't have to, since when he looks at Cas he finds the angel staring, and it only feels natural to sink into a soft kiss. It quickly deepens when Cas' tongue insistently licks over Dean's lower lip and once he parts them Dean's tiredness has been forgotten. An appreciative little moan spills from the angel's mouth into his and goosebumps spread over the hunter's skin. Their position quickly becomes uncomfortable and not close enough, and without breaking their kissing Dean pulls Cas closer. Cas follows Dean's hand and moves as close as he can; it makes Dean's heart jump since the powerful angel wouldn't be affected by his pulling at all if he didn't actively choose to do so. Dean leans back and gasps for air, his cheeks flushed and lips wet.  
“Dean,” breaths Cas against his skin and it makes the hunter shudder. The angel's lips ghost across his cheek and to his ear, and Dean wants to know where Cas has picked that up, but his mind is distracted by the hand placed on his hip. It slowly crawls under his shirt and then Cas' warm palm is on his bare skin; Dean draws in a sharp breath.  
“Too much?” Cas' deep voice whispers into his ear and Dean has to swallow.  
“No,” His voice is hoarse, “Just... I... Can we...”  
The angel leans back and watches Dean patiently, his pupils clearly dilated. “Just tell me,” Cas instructs but Dean can't, and his heartbeat races when he gets to his knees and climbs over Cas' legs. The hunter opens his mouth to ask if it's okay, ask permission to sit in Cas' lap; but before he can get a word out the angel breathes a low 'yes' and the hand that isn't on Dean's hip grabs his shoulder and pulls him down and back into the kiss. Dean feels like he is about to black out, overwhelmed by the sensation of Cas' lips, Cas' hand on his hip and especially Cas under him, and greedily he moans into the angel's mouth. Their kiss is wet and hungry, and they accidentally knock their teeth together but it doesn't bother them, they are too absorbed in the contact of their bodies.  
Cas reluctantly lets go of Dean's mouth to allow him to catch his breath and latches onto the soft skin over the human's collar bone, sucking gently and licking over the spot.  
“Shit, Cas...” breaths Dean and a shiver runs down his spine.  
“I missed you,” the angel discloses and his hot breath meets Dean's skin.  
“'ve missed you too” confesses the hunter before he is even thinking about it. Cas hums and his lips wander back up to Dean's mouth. Quickly they are kissing again, and the angel's hand on his bare skin moves from his hip to his lower back, giving Dean goosebumps all over again.  
The heat starts building in Dean's guts but it takes him a while to realize what is going on. When he notices he is already half hard and he breaks away from Cas, who is just looking at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Dean is about to apologize and move away when he looks down and his brain stops working. A shaky breath escapes his mouth and he clashes his lips to those of a surprised Cas'. He moves closer to Cas until he can feel it, until he is pressed against the arousal that had been visible in Cas' pants. A high noise works it's way up the angel's throat and the hand on Dean's lower back pulls him in, and neither of them can miss how their pants are getting tighter. Their tongues are getting more greedy and their hands are tangled in each others hair. Dean feels like his heart is about to burst out of his chest and he can't help himself but grind down on the angel's lap and the latter moans. Cas' hand wanders up his back and the touch sends a shiver down his spine. “Cas,” he moans into the other man's mouth and rolls his hips again.  
At that moment he realises relatively quickly that something isn't right. The pressure against his own arousal changes and Cas whimpers quietly, even though he doesn't break the kiss. Dean is the one who pulls back, even though Cas' hand in his hair doesn't make it easy, and this time his voice sounds worried when he repeats: “Cas?”  
A quick look down shows him what he already felt, the angel's pants aren't tented anymore, but Cas is still kissing Dean where he can reach. The hunter cups his cheeks and forces Cas to look at him, but the angel avoids eye contact.  
“Are you okay?” Dean asks softly and Cas' “Yes,” comes way too quick, but for a second Dean is distracted when their lips meet again.  
“Stop,” the mumbles in between the kisses and the angel does, but everything suddenly changes, now Dean is sitting on the bed and he has an angel in his lap leaning over him.  
“I am so sorry. I can still do this,” whispers Cas and moves to kiss him again, but Dean places a hand between them. “No. You nervous?” He asks while trying to get a look at the angel's face, but the latter is suddenly burying his face in Dean's neck and his voice breaks when he pleads: “You want this. Please let me do this for you!”  
“No, Cas!” Dean protests and pushes against the angel's hips, and this time he was loud enough for the angel to react. He slumps down on the mattress, his shoulders drawn in and face hidden in his hands. His voice is calm and resigned when he mutters: “I am truly sorry, Dean.”  
For a second Dean presses a hand to his groin, because it still hadn't got the message that nothing was going to happen and it was making him blush, before he kneeles in front of Cas.  
He gently cups the other man's cheeks before he asks: “Cas, buddy, please look at me.”  
Finally Cas does, his cheeks redder than Dean had seen them on the angel before and a deep frown on his face. “Hey,” Dean whispers and softly leans his forehead against Cas', “don't beat yourself up over this. I'm sorry I went to fast.”  
“You didn't,” protests Cas, but it only sounds half believable.  
“I did and your body showed it. And you've got it wrong, by the way.”  
The angel's eyes widen in shock and there is a hint of panic in his voice when he asks: “What?”  
“Shh,” Dean tries to calm him and he rubs Cas' back, “I don't want it like this,” he explains.  
“I do want to sleep with you. Eventually,” Dean has to swallow and blushes when he realizes he has actually said it for the first time, “But you are wrong if you think I would want it when you don't feel up to it. Cas, this is as much about you as it is about me.”  
The only response from the angel is a quiet whimper.  
“Shit, Cas,” mumbles Dean and pulls him to his chest. Cas just kind of collapses against him and Dean hugs the angel, placing a kiss on his head.  
“Why would you think you had to do this?” He isn't judging, it is more a question out of desperation.  
“Sex is an important part of humans being romantically involved,” states Cas matter-of-factly.  
Dean closes his eyes and sighs softly, burying his nose in Cas' hair. The angel smells really good, a part of his mind notices.  
“Please don't ever do something for me you don't feel comfortable with, just because it might be a part of human protocol.” He pleads the angel.  
“Why?” It is an honest question, and Dean quietly curses Cas' father for making him so sacrificially.  
“Because it hurts me. It don't like seeing you in pain just as much as you don't like it if I'm hurting. Cas, this relationship it us giving and taking equally, okay?”  
At first the hunter is surprised by the angel in his arms suddenly tensing up. He blushes when he goes over his words to find out why.  
Big blue eyes look up to him: “Relationship?”  
Dean swallows. “If you want it to be?”  
“Yes.” It is just a simple word, but Dean's heart jumps and a smile spreads across his face. He presses his lips to Cas' for a short, sweet kiss and for a while they just sit together in silence.

“Hey Cas?” Dean asks after a while and the addressed hums.  
“Will you tell me... what happened, you know, when...” His voice dies out. For a moment, Cas doesn't speak or move.  
“I got scared,” the angel explains when Dean is certain he won't get an answer.  
“Was it something in particular?” The hunter probes cautiously.  
Cas shakes his head. “I don't think so. I just felt like I didn't know what to do. And I didn't want to screw it up.”  
Dean nods and kisses the top of his head again. He blushes and has to remind himself 'Cas is not human' before he offers: “Would you like us to talk about it first before we do anything?”  
The angel considers the thought for a moment. “It might help,” he replies eventually, “but not right now.”  
“Not right now,” Dean agrees and suddenly the tiredness hits him. He remembers how tired he was in the first place when they climbed into bed.  
“How about we do things a little differently tonight,” he suggests and moves to lay down beneath the covers. Cas eyes him suspiciously. “Lay down with me,” Dean tells Cas and the angel does without hesitation.  
“If you want to,” Dean stresses before he continues, “try laying your arm over my waist. Just like that,” he reassures Cas who has his arm hovering a few inches over Dean's body. “And now you can lean your head against my chest. There you go,” instructs the hunter and smiles when Cas quickly picks up on it and moves closer until his body is gently pressed against Dean's side. The human runs a hand up and down the angel's back.  
“This is very comfortable,” announces Cas and slowly the tension is leaving his body, “is this appropriate for the term cuddling?”  
Dean huffs. “I guess, yeah.”

The hunter is almost asleep when Cas whispers his name into the room.  
“Hm?” Dean grumbles sleepily.  
“You know... You know I still want to have sex with you, right? Even though I was too scared tonight.”  
Dean's heart stutters alarmingly for a second before he mumbles: “I'm happy to hear that, Cas, but geez, you're going to give me a heart attack if you talk like that.”  
“Would you prefer if I phrase it differently?”  
The hunter's cheeks turn red. “Nah. I like the way you phrase stuff.”  
He doesn't have to see Cas to know his lips twitch with a smile.  
“G'night Cas,” he mutters and the warm “Good night, Dean,” is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep.

\--------------------------------------------

Dean sleeps for twelve hours straight that night but when he wakes up, Sam is still asleep. Once he gets up though, he is back to his normal energetic self. One would think going for a run isn't the first thing that comes to one's mind after three days of coughing up blood, but Sam thinks it's a great idea. With his little brother being fit again Dean's next mission is getting Baby back home. Sam is quick to give him his go and Cas takes Dean back to where they had parked the Impala. To Dean's delight Cas stays for the two hour drive home and slips into the passenger seat.

They are half an hour in and listening to some of Dean's favourite tapes when Cas kind of hits the hunter out of the blue with his question. At least he had chosen a straight part of the road with few cars for it, so Dean doesn't drive into oncoming traffic.  
“What do I need to know about sex?”  
Still, the steering wheel is not staying completely straight when Dean jumps and for a second the car sways on the road. “Jesus, Cas,” the hunter protests while trying to calm his racing heart. Cas rolls his eyes at the use of the name.  
Dean casts a quick look at the angel: “You wanna do this now?”  
Cas tilts his head and of course Dean's heart jumps at the sight.  
“I thought this would be a good time, since we are on our own and have nothing else to accomplish.”  
“Yeah,” agrees Dean with a huff, “I just kinda thought you might want a bit more time between yesterday and... the talk.” And maybe Dean had hoped that he would have a bit more time to prepare for it.  
“I am fine with it, but if you are uncomfortable we can-”  
“Nah,” shrugs Dean, “let's do this. What do you wanna know?” At least it would be over.  
There is more insecurity in Cas' voice than Dean would have expected. It reminds him a little bit of that night he took Cas to the 'den of iniquity', to put it in his words.  
“How does it work?”  
Dean wants to disappear and his cheeks become hot.  
“You know that, you have done it before. With April, right?”  
“Yes,” Cas nods, “but that was different. She was a woman. And I was human.”  
“It will be different as an angel?” Dean wasn't stalling, he was just curious, he told himself.  
“My true form is vastly different from this human vessel. As an angel I don't have human instincts, so I don't know what to do. I had a general idea when I was with April.” Cas explains himself.  
“Oh,” mumbles Dean, getting an idea of Cas' problem. After a while he asks: “Did you... When you observed humanity, you have to have seen people doing it, haven't you?”  
Cas' voice becomes slightly grumpy: “I did, but firstly, most of the times it involved a man and a woman, and secondly, I didn't really pay attention since it wasn't of much interest to heaven.”  
“Hm,” replies Dean, slowly accepting that this is going to be awkward howsoever he goes about it. For a moment they drive in silence, until Dean pulls himself together, cheeks burning hot, and tries: “You can tell when something feels good, right?”  
“Yes,” Cas answers, seemingly glad to be able to respond, “Like how it feels good when we kiss.”  
“Exactly,” Dean nods and takes a deep breath, “So, when you have sex, you kind of try to make each other feel good. You can start by... you know, just doing what you know feels good when you do it yourself.”  
Cas stares at Dean with his head tilted and his brows furrowed. Something begins to dawn on Dean and he shakes his head:  
“You have been around for centuries. Don't tell me you haven't touched yourself sometimes.”  
Cas looks at his hands as if his reply could be written there. “I... I am uncertain. Are you referring to-”  
“Masturbation, Cas.” Dean clarifies and tries to ignore that he has to look like a ripe tomato.  
“Right,” the angel answers, “No, I haven't done that yet.”  
Dean squeezes his eyes shut. “I need some air,” he mumbles when he realizes he can't drive like this and takes the exit to the nearest rest stop. The hunter gets out of the car, the cool air feeling good on his burning cheeks and he shakes his legs. He can hear Cas' door open and close and he leans against the hood of the Impala.  
“Have I said something wrong?” Cas asks in an uneasy voice from behind.  
“No! God no, you didn't, Cas. Come here,” he instructs when the angel continues to stand a couple of feet away from him. Dean gently pulls Cas to his side so they are both leaning against the car.  
“I can sense that you are uncomfortable, Dean. Please tell me why,” he calmly asks and looks at Dean, but the human stares into the distance. He does sigh and try to explain himself, though:  
“It's just... It is a bit overwhelming, Cas. We are so different. I want this to be good for you, and when you say you haven't even... I don't want to do this wrong.” His voice fades, “I don't want to screw this up.”  
“We are different,” agrees Cas, “but we both make compromises for it. I don't think we are doing this wrong.”  
“What am I doing for this?” Counters Dean and holds up his hands, “I get a freaking angel, who can teleport around and heal people, and you? You get a broken human. Doesn't sound very right to me.”  
Cas looks like he is gritting his teeth when he answers: “I don't like it when you talk about yourself like that. Don't put me on a pedestal, Dean. I am damaged. I have done a lot of bad things. Yes, I might have some powers from your perspective, but so do you. You are able to form bonds with living beings in a way angels aren't able to. And by... by being in a relationship with me, you give me the opportunity to experience some of that, without me being able to reciprocate it in the same way. So stop putting yourself down. We are far more equal than you tell yourself.”  
Dean just stupidly stares at Cas and swallows. “Thanks,” he eventually mumbles, but damn, he doesn't like these moments. He feels way too vulnerable. Just to stop Cas from saying more things that will have him blush for the next week he places a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. Then he sits on the hood of the Impala and gestures Cas to sit next to him.  
“Humans don't openly talk about sex,” Dean starts, and Cas interrupts him by mumbling “I've noticed.” The hunter has to giggle, and it takes some of the edge from the situation. Dean continues quietly: “So I'm not thrilled about this talk, but I will try to explain to you what I know.” Cas nods and focuses on Dean. The hunter looks away while speaking.  
“There are different ways to be intimate. It doesn't have to be... penetrating.” Blood rushes into his cheeks again and he quickly continues. “There's touching. Or you can use your mouth. You have to have seen that at some point.” The blush on the angel's cheek tells him that he knows what Dean is talking about, and the hunter is kind of glad he doesn't have to explain further. “I think the base line is... You do what feels good. For both parties. And just so you know... I'm not sure how to do this, either. Humans generally aren't. It is about... experimenting, I guess. Trying what both sides like, just being close to one another.”  
The angel nods, seemingly concentrated on processing the new information. Dean tries to imagine what it might feel like for Cas, and when he comes to the conclusion that it must be pretty overwhelming, he adds: “And Cas, no pressure. You're ready when you're ready, and if it takes another year, that's fine. Until then, I'm pretty happy with this.”  
Dean can see the angel smile before he closes his eyes to kiss him again. Yeah, he's definitely happy like this.


	5. Lucky Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and smut. Nothing more, nothing less.

The three of them were on a hunt for a shapeshifter in the far north. After two days of searching for the 'sneaky son of a bitch' – as Dean put it – they had finally caught him the day before. To everyone's relieve, nobody had gotten hurt this time. Since it was already late in the afternoon they decided to stay another night and drive back home the day after.

It is early in the morning when Dean sleepily blinks and yawns into the dimly lit motel room. A quick look tells him that Sam is still in bed, his back turned towards Dean.  
“Good morning, Dean,” Cas greets the human from his chair at the table in a corner of the room. A big book is laying in front of him, something about how physic laws apply to hell apparently. Dean had only understood half of what Cas had explained to him when he asked, and since the book was written in Italian, there was no way he was going to find out on his own.  
“Morning,” Dean yawns before he looks at his brother again. “'s Sam still asleep?”  
“He is,” the angel confirms while closing his book.  
The hunter smiles when he flips back the covers and moves to one side of the bed.  
“Come join me then.”  
The air shifts and suddenly the angel has disappeared from the chair and reappeared right next to Dean's bed. The human jumps, but he isn't as shocked as he would have been a couple of month ago. Somehow he was getting used to Cas randomly appearing out of nowhere. Though Cas usually doesn't use his wings to cross a room.  
“Bit impatient, are we?” Teases Dean when Cas lays down next to him. The angel just shrugs his shoulders.  
“I haven't been with you the last two nights. I think I'm entitled to be a bit overeager.”  
Dean grins. “I'm not gonna complain.”  
Cas moves in close, facing Dean, and puts his arm around the hunter. Dean lifts his hand and gently runs it through Cas' soft hair. He likes how it sticks into different directions when he does that. Cas gifts him with one of his rare smiles.  
When the angel leans in with the intention to close the gap between their mouths Dean places his index fingers against his lips.  
“Morning breath. Give me a sec and I'll brush my teeth.”  
The hunter moves to get up and quickly go to the bathroom, but Cas' grip around his waist goes stiff and Dean suddenly isn't able to turn his upper body.  
“You don't need to,” states Cas seriously.  
“Yeah, I kinda do,” doubts Dean and reaches for Cas' arm, but he isn't able to move it. It feels like he is being hugged by a warm statue. A short, tingly feeling shoots through his body and with an raised eyebrow he looks at Cas. The angel has one corner of his lip curled into half a grin.  
“You don't. I have done it for you.”  
Dean's voice is equally scolding as it is impressed: “You mojo'd my mouth clean?”  
“I removed all particles that could be considered dirt from your body,” Cas specifies. Experimental Dean runs his tongue over his teeth, and sure enough, it doesn't taste minty, what he usually connects with clean teeth, but they do feel good. Still, he protests.  
“Dude, don't waste your mojo like that.”  
“I wouldn't call it wasted,” Cas informers the human before he impatiently adds: “Now will you let me kiss you already?”  
The hunter grins: “It's kind of funny when you're determined like that.”  
“Now you're just teasing me,” notices Cas, and before Dean is able to comment the angel eagerly presses his lips to Dean's. The human yelps in surprise before he sinks into the kiss. It starts out fairly chaste, but within seconds Dean is able to feel the wet heat of the other man's tongue against his bottom lip. The hunter giggles, what Cas comments with a quiet growl, but the human does part his lips and nudges Cas' tongue with his own. Cas makes a satisfied hum that sends a shiver through Dean's body, but the angel still seems to be trying to get more out of him. With the supernatural force that Cas usually doesn't show he pulls Dean closer until their bodies are pressed together.  
Hurried Dean tries to move away and his face turns a deep shade of pink, but the angel's grip is still too stiff for him to get anywhere. He is able to break the kiss and Cas notices it displeased.  
“Let go,” Dean protests and pushes his hands against the angel's chest. At the serious tone in Dean's voice Cas immediately moves backwards, his arms almost magically disappearing from Dean's body. The angel looks at the hunter with wide eyes that appear odd in contrast to his wet shimmering lips.  
“I'm sorry!” Cas tells Dean right away, before he adds a confused “What did I do wrong?”  
When Dean feels like he has brought a safe distance between his hips and the angel he looks at him, blood pumping through his face: “Dude, I just woke up.” Cas still seems to be absolutely clueless.  
With a desperate sigh Dean throws a quick gaze at his little brother, but except for a foot that is now hanging down at the end of the bed he hasn't moved. Dean still keeps his voice down when he looks pointedly to his crotch and murmurs: “I have... a boner. And it was pressed right against you.”  
The angel stutters, obviously not understanding what Dean's problem was: “I... I thought... I didn't mind.”  
Now it is Dean's turn to look at Cas in slight bewilderment. After a moment he shakes his head and huffs, explaining: “Still, it wouldn't go away if I... if we're that close, you know.”  
The angel, now apparently less confused and once again very focused on Dean's lips, whispers: “What if I don't want it to go away?”  
Cas' words have all kinds of instant effects on the hunter's body. His heart stutters shortly, his blush darkens and it certainly didn't lessen his arousal. He has to clear his throat before he is able to stammer: “Um... I don't... Really? I mean... my brother... 's in the room...”  
A deep sigh comes from the man laying in bed with him. Cas looks up, wide eyes and a faint blush on his cheeks and asks: “How about tonight?”  
“Um,” mumbles Dean, “If you really want to, you know, sure. I don't want to pressure you, or make you feel like-”  
The hunter is silenced with another kiss.

///

Cas is able to notice Sam waking up early enough so that the younger Winchester doesn't find his brother and an angel snogging in the bed next to him. They are quick to pack up and hit the road, not without Sam questioning why they are in such a hurry. Neither Cas nor Dean can give him a satisfactory answer to that.

Dean notices how his thoughts start to wander multiple times that day, especially every time he looks in the rear view mirror and finds the angel staring at himself, making his blood boil and the hair at his neck stand up. He feels like the drive home takes at least twice as long as it should and so does the cleaning of their equipment a couple of hours later back at the bunker. To keep his hands busy Dean decides to cook dinner for the three of them (well, two, Cas doesn't eat unless someone tells him to try something) and to his delight Sam praises his lasagna. Afterwards he heads into the shower, even though he isn't sure if he really needs it after Cas' clean up in the morning. Still, it feels good and it is able to calm his nerves a little bit.  
Somehow Dean feels like a teenager, insecure and nervous about what they had planned for the evening. When he throws on fresh clothes and shortly thinks about whether he should have bothered with something nicer than his plain gray boxers, he realizes that he hadn't thought about 'something nicer' at all – and it suddenly hits him how new it was going to be for the angel and that maybe he would want it to be some place more special than the bunker. Dean starts looking for Cas, but the library is empty and Sam is the only one in front of the TV. Eventually the hunter finds Cas in his room, the same book from earlier that day in his lap. Dean stumbles:  
“I just wanted to ask... You know, tonight... If you want to, I mean if you'd like it to be somewhere... not here, I could book us a room or something.”  
“I like it here,” states Cas and one corner of his mouth pulls up.  
Dean nods quickly: “Me too. It's just... I know it's not your first...” he feels blood rushing to his cheeks, “You know, but close to it, so if you want us to do something more special than the bunker...” The hunter is kind of jealous that Cas looks calm as ever while he is stumbling over his own words. The angel gets up.  
“Dean, if I get to be with you tonight, that is the most special it can be.” Cas is now standing right in front of Dean, and the hunter suddenly notices how pink the other man's cheeks are.  
“I'm nervous,” he admits and Cas seriously states:  
“Me too, Dean.”  
Instinctively they share a sweet kiss and Dean suddenly feels calmer, Cas' lips as warm against his as they always are, and of course Cas is fine with them just in the bunker, just like Dean is. This isn't about the place or the clothes they wear, it's about the two of them.  
Dean's voice is more steady when he suggests: “How about we join Sam watching TV until it's time to go to bed?”  
”Great idea,” comments Cas; and just for keeping calm they walk down the corridors hand in hand.

///

Dean is excited and nervous at the same time when Sam announces he will go to bed. They wish him a good night and sit on the couch for a while, not quite sure how to proceed. The hunter eventually clears his throat, but his voice still isn't as steady as he would like it to be when he speaks:  
“So... I'll go get ready for bed. If you want... you could come to my room later?”  
“I would like that,” nods Cas and they both head for a bathroom.  
Dean had always considered himself to be the spontaneous kind of guy who would just go for what he wants, making out with somebody until they would somehow end up doing more than that. As far as he can remember, he had never planed it out like this; and if he did, he hadn't been so nervous about it. He knows it's because he wants it to be good for Cas, but it doesn't help. Hastily he brushes his teeth and slips on some random pj's, and when he thinks he can't get any more nervous the quiet knock on his door sends his heart on a mission to break his ribs.  
“Come in!” He calls and there he is, his angel in blue pajamas and with ruffled hair. They smile at each other for a moment, uncertain how to continue. Eventually Dean is able to shake his stupor and he walks over to Cas, who is still standing at the door. Gently he cups the angels cheek and runs his thumb over Cas' lower lip. The other man glides his hand in Dean's hair and the hunter shudders, and almost at the same time they lean in to kiss. When Dean nibbles at the angel's lower lip Cas quietly moans, and it sets Dean's gut on fire. He leads Cas a step backwards so he leans against the wall, and a hot hand wanders all over Dean's back. Their kiss quickly deepens, and Dean breathes in short gasps so he doesn't have to break away. His hand slips under Cas' shirt and over the warm skin on the angel's hip. The touch is electrifying, and Cas' hand on his back leaves a burning sensation in it's path.  
Panting he breaks the kiss, and the angel just places kisses along his jaw and down his neck. His grip in Cas' hair tightens as he feels lips creating a mark on his skin. When he speaks his voice is shivering, affected by the butterflies in his stomach and the heat in his groin:  
“You sure you wanna do this?” Dean just has to be certain.  
Cas' answer it's low and husky, and as far as Dean is concerned it is the hottest voice he's ever heard: “Yes, Dean. I want this.” The angel interrupts himself to kiss the human's collar bone, “I want you.”  
Only now realizing he has held his breath Dean releases it shakily, and then he gently pulls on Cas' hair, guiding his head back up to meet his lips. Exchanging wet and more and more urgent kisses Dean lets the hand under Cas' shirt glide over the angel's belly, following the traces of muscles.  
“Can I...” he whispers between kisses, “take of your shirt?”  
The angel doesn't bother with waiting for his lips to be unoccupied and just breaths his 'yes' into Dean's mouth. While his heart jumps in excitement he reaches for the shirt and hastily pulls it over Cas' head, revealing warm, soft skin that he immediately runs his hands over, taking in the sensation of Cas under his touch. Like he has noticed before the angel seems to be always warmer than him; and before he thinks the words through, he mumbles: “Why are you always so hot?”  
Usually such a comment would fly right over Cas' head, but today he chuckles. He still answers as scientifically as he always does: “It is a side effect of my grace being compressed into this vessel. It has to do with different planes of reality overlapping.”  
Dean wants to be sarcastic about Cas explaining science to him while they make out, but he is liking it too much to be able to say anything. So instead he presses his lips to the angel's, greedy and urgent while his hands explore Cas' upper body. Hands tug on the seam of his own shirt and he quickly raises his arms. After the short break to get the fabric over Dean's head they clash their lips back together, and Cas' hands on his back pull him into the angel. Dean can't help it but quietly moan when their upper bodies touch, hot skin on skin that gives him goosebumps all over his body. The human nibbles on the other man's lip again and Cas' quietly growls. One of his hands glides lower on Dean's back and urges the human to come closer, and Dean willingly lets the hand guide his hips to Cas'. For what he thinks is the first time ever Dean hears Cas' breath hitch when their erections press against each other, and the feeling sends lighting through the human's body.  
“Cas,” Dean whispers, and he is surprised himself at how rough his voice sounds, “Bed, please.”  
He didn't mean it as an request for Cas to fly them over, but he isn't opposed to the way they drop down on it either, limbs tangled together and skin pressed against skin. When they have sorted themselves out the angel rests on his back, both hands in Dean's hair and pulling him into a kiss, and the hunter is on all fours over him. One of his hands wanders over the angel's bare chest, experimentally he circles a nipple with his thumb and to his delight Cas whimpers at the feeling.  
“Please, Dean,” urges Cas, one of his hands moving over the hunter's back and to his ass. Dean hisses at the sensation when the angel presses him down to his hips, their dicks rubbing together through the few layers of clothing. The hand putting pressure on his butt just adds to the fire in his lower belly. Without thinking about it he grinds down, looking for friction and Cas moans, the hand on his hip gripping tighter. Dean keeps moving his hips, alternating the pressure of his body weight to their arousal, and judging by the sounds the angel makes beneath him he likes it just as much as the hunter. When he runs his fingers over Cas' nipple again the angel arches up his back, and intuitively Dean gently squeezes the bud between his fingers. Cas moans and apparently involuntarily he thrusts his hips upwards. It changes the way their dicks are pressed against each other and it sends hot spikes through Dean's body; the hunter curses into Cas' mouth:  
“Dammit, Cas, oh god...”  
“Did I do it wrong?” Whispers the angel and pulls back from their kiss. The sight of Cas with ruffled hair, red cheeks and swollen lips has to be the hottest he has ever seen, the hunter is certain. Dean is quick to reassure him: “No, absolutely not, it felt good, this feels great...” He is aware that he is rambling, but for some reason isn't able to stop it.  
“Good,” breathes Cas and repeats the movement of his hips, “I like the feeling, too.” Dean buries his head at the base of Cas' neck and feels how his body tenses at the sensation. The angel's mouth is close to his ear as he whispers: “And please don't speak of my father while we are having sex.”  
Something about that blatant wording has Dean moan loudly, and he grinds down harder when he mutters 'sorry' into Cas' skin. He is sucking at it, not holding back anymore, claiming Cas as his and his only. Irregularly Cas meets his thrusts with his hips and it has Dean make all kinds of embarrassing noises. He can feel how the pressure is building in his groin and that he won't hold out for much longer.  
“Cas,” he pants, lifting himself up enough to look at the angel, “Do you want to... you know, loose the clothes? We don't have to,” he quickly adds, “this is hot as hell on its own.”  
Before he has even moaned out the 'yes' Cas' hands are already tugging on Dean's pants and the hunter gets to his knees to help him. They only get his pants and boxers down far enough for his erection to spring free, the air feeling cold and intense against the hot skin and smeared precome. The angel in return helps wiggle his own clothes down to his thighs, and Dean's breath stops at the sight of Cas' dick, red and swollen against his stomach. Cas interrupts his staring by pulling him back down into their wet and sloppy kissing, both of them distracted by all the other feelings. When Dean grinds down and their dicks rub against each other, hot and sticky skin against skin, both of them moan loudly. Cas' grip in his hair and on his ass tightens, and Dean starts nibbling at Cas' lips. Their movement becomes more urgent, Dean thrusting down and Cas shifting his hips upwards. Quickly they are both panting, gripping onto each others bodies. Dean has the urge to touch Cas, touch himself, feel the throbbing dicks in his hands. He doesn't want to screw it up, go to far, but he has to ask, the heat still building in his groin and his erection dripping with precome.  
“Can I...” Dean groans, a deep an primal sound, “I want to touch you.”  
“Touch me,” Cas pleads between ragged breaths, fingernails digging into Dean's butt.  
“Your dick,” the hunter whispers, just to clarify his intentions, but Cas makes it clear that he knows. The angel untangles his hand from Dean's hair and tightly grips the hand that the hunter doesn't use to hold up his body, and with too much strength for Dean to even consider struggling Cas pushes his hand between their sweaty bodies.  
He urges Dean right into his ear: “Touch my penis, Dean. Please, this feels so good.”  
His heart might just as well leave his body, Dean figures, because all it can do at this point is stutter. Growling he reaches down, right to the point where incredible pressure and heat is pooling in his body, and he takes Cas' and his own dick in his hand. His long fingers wrap around them and the angel squirms, moving his hips in sharp, uncontrolled twitches. The weight of the two of them is heavy in his hand and they are both coated in precome and sweat. Gently Dean tightens his grip, just enough to press their length closer together, and then he strokes the two dicks.  
“Oh!” Cas rips his eyes open, “Dean, do that again, please!” His voice is only a low growl, and Dean is more than willing to do just what he asked for. His hand is quickly just as slick as their erections, rubbing them with persistence. Cas is too far gone to speak clearly, uttering unconnected syllables and repeatedly the hunter's name. After figuring out the speed that makes the angel squirm at his hand the human flicks his thumb over the head of Cas' dick; and he can feel him throbbing in his hand, and just a stroke later the angel is muffling a cry against Dean's neck, his dick pulsing as it shoots out strings of come. The hunter keeps stroking Cas through his shivers, and when Cas lets his head fall back down to the pillow his mouth is still open, eyes glassy and cheeks red. The view of post-orgasm-Cas hurls Dean over the edge, and while he is growling deeply his dick adds to the mess between their bodies. He feels like he is exploding, the pressure and heat finally releasing and draining out of him.  
When it is over he thuds down next to the angel, breathing heavily. He leaves his hand on Cas' stomach since it is just as sticky and he just enjoys the feeling of the hot skin against his hand. For a moment, neither of them are speaking, relishing the feeling washing through them. Dean is aware of the big smile on his lips, but he isn't even bothered by the feeling written all over his face.  
Cas is the first one to get his voice back: “Dean?” He asks and the addressed hums contently.  
“That was truly amazing.”  
“Really glad to hear that, buddy,” Dean smiles and looks at the angel. Cas turns slightly to have a better view of him.  
“Was it satisfactory for you?” There is actual concern in the angel's voice, but the hunter still has to chuckle. He gives Cas a quick kiss.  
“Cas, that was more than satisfactory. That was awesome.”  
On the angel's face a smile spreads that mirrors Dean's own. Gently the hunter pats Cas' belly and sighs: “Come on. Lets get you cleaned up.”

Together they slip into the nearest bathroom and Dean gently rubs all the stickiness from Cas' and his skin with a warm wash cloth. The hunter is almost a bit sad when they put their clothes back on, but then he realizes he doesn't have to. Cas isn't going anywhere, and he isn't either. This wasn't a one time thing, and they can repeat it if they want. Just as he thinks about that he catches a look of the purple hickey on Cas' neck as they get into bed. 'Mine,' he thinks to himself, 'I actually get to be with the angel.'  
“Cas,” he states with a genuine smile before they say good night, “you're awesome.”

\----------------------------------------

Dean wakes up to a hand gently stroking his back. For a moment he is confused, since Cas is usually busy reading a book or just staring at him. But after that Dean decides he likes the feeling. So instead of turning around, he stays still and keeps his eyes closed. Not that Cas' doesn't know he's awake, he is pretty sure that the angel can tell. It is just a calming sensation to wake up to.  
After a while the hand glides up to his head and into his hair, ruffling it before quickly stroking Dean's cheek. With a content sigh the hunter turns around and finally opens his eyes, blinking sleepily. Interrupted by a yawn he murmurs:  
“What did I do to earn that?”  
“Good morning, Dean,” replies Cas. The angel is sitting cross legged on the bed, blue pajamas crumpled and his hair a mess. “You were very sweet tonight.”  
Dean feels like wincing at the adjective but holds back, instead raising his eyebrows questioningly.  
“You talked,” explains Cas. Dean sighs and feels that he's blushing. He doesn't often talk in his sleep, but on occasion Sam had teased him with senseless words he had uttered into the shared motel rooms.  
“What did I say?” He groans, trying to remember what he dreamed about but coming up with nothing.  
“My name,” answers the angel, and a smile spreads over his lips and lights his eyes.  
“Something else?” Asks Dean, in his opinion the smile is way too big for just a muttered name. Cas furrows his brows in obvious confusion.  
“Something about a bear and your pants, and then you roared. I didn't get that part.”  
“Okay? So what led to me waking up to a back rub?”  
A faint blush appears on the angel's face.  
“Just... I was about to get my book when you quietly said my name, reached over and pulled me closer and then you sighed. You... you wanted me to be around.”  
“Of course I would want that, Cas. You know that.” Dean looks up at the angel, but Cas is avoiding his eyes. The other man's voice is more of a whisper when he answers:  
“I might still be a little bit insecure about that sometimes.”  
Dean sighs and sits up, carefully taking Cas' chin to make him look at the hunter. Dean's voice is soft when he explains: “I want you around me, Cas. Of course I do. Hell, I slept with you last night, doesn't that show I want you to stay?”  
The angel mumbles barely audible: “You slept with a lot of people you didn't want to be around after.”  
It dawns on Dean what Cas might have thought: “Wait. Did you think that I wouldn't be interested anymore after we had sex?”  
“No!” Cas quickly denies, but when Dean looks at him with an raised eyebrow he admits: “Maybe a small part of me considered that to be a possibility.”  
Dean shakes his head and kneels in front of Cas. Gently he takes the angel's face in his hands and leans his forehead against Cas'. His voice is quiet and slightly troubled: “Stupid angel... I don't just want to sleep with you. Man, I thought you'd know that. I want you. To be with you. You know, a stupid sappy relationship with all that crap. Dammit Cas, don't ever think I would want anything else.” He kisses the angel's forehead before he lets go, looking into the blue eyes to make sure he understood. A faint smile pulls at Cas' lips.  
“Thank you, Dean. I would like that, too.”  
“Lucky me,” comments Dean and quickly kisses the angel's cheek. “Come on, let's get up. I'm starving.”


	6. It helps being close to you

Things feel different afterwards. It is not that their feelings changed or that they did something differently, it is just... They are more certain of one another. Their eyes shine a little brighter, their smiles are a little big bigger. It is a nice feeling.

That makes it hurt so much more when Dean feels cold one morning as he blinks the sleep from his eyes. He is never cold in the morning – after multiple hours with the warm angel in his small room, it is usually quite hot. He turns around, hoping to see the angel sitting on the chair at his desk, but it is empty. Blindly Dean grabs his phone and pulls a face at the bright light from the display, but his only new message is from Crowley (Dean doesn't know why, but the king of hell is obsessed with jaguars and sends a picture or video at least once a week). The hunter swallows down his disappointment and gets up, only when he is about to go to the bathroom he notices the bright yellow post it on his desk. The cursive handwriting on it is meticulous and looks hundreds of years old.

'Dean,' it reads,  
'A brother of mine that I hold in high regards is in trouble and I have to assist him. I didn't want to wake you. As soon as I am able to I will come back.  
Cas'

Dean sighs. He sticks the post it to his wall and stares at it for a moment before he goes to the bathroom. When he enters the kitchen and mutters a sleepy 'morning' Sam looks up from the paper in confusion: “Morning Dean. Where's Cas?”  
“The bird has flown. Angel business.” Dean explains while he gets himself his coffee. It nearly spills as he flops down opposite of Sam.  
“When did he leave?” asks his little brother and pushes his bowl of blueberries across the table. Dean chucks one into his mouth.  
“Tonight. He was gone when I woke up.” He tries to hide the hurt in his voice and look unfazed, but judging by Sam's pulled corner of his mouth he isn't convinced. To Dean's relieve, the other hunter doesn't comment on it. Instead he states:  
“I think I have a case. Do you feel up for it?”  
“Sure. Hit me,” answers Dean and ignores the urge to grit his teeth at Sam's thought that he might be incapable of doing it while Cas is gone. He doesn't have to let anyone know that he would much rather wait for him. Also he doesn't have to tell Sam that he wrote Cas a text before they were out the door, just in case he might come back soon.

///

Sam and Dean quickly realize how much work Cas usually does for them. Trying to figure out what has killed the two middle aged men without any external injuries is much harder when you don't have an angel sniffing it out in seconds. They feel kind of nostalgic when they have to perform a postmortem on the victims, but it only lasts until they have to cut their chests open. It reminds them of how much they were grossed out by this part of their job. Dean is glad when they get back to questioning the locals – something that Cas is still as bad at as he was in the beginning – and he is back to his usual routine. Sam has hit the local library and if Dean doesn't think about it, he catches himself happy about the thought of picking up his brother and his angel later. He bites his cheek every time he finds himself missing Cas.  
Late in the afternoon he receives a short text from the angel.

'Dean,  
Good luck with your case. I won't be able to join you, I am sorry.  
Take care and see you soon.  
Cas'

Dean wants to ask what the angel is doing, but they never really speak about his heavenly duties. So instead, the hunter settles on 'You too, Cas, be careful' and tries to concentrate on something else. He and his little brother go to watch a movie at the local drive-in cinema and they both enjoy it very much. They don't have much time for just the two of them at the moment and even though they are both okay with it, they cherish evenings like this one.  
Somehow Dean had hoped Cas would drop in on them and say hello, but the angel seems to be too busy to do so. The hunter sends a short good night text and is happy to quickly receive one back. Afterwards he listens to Sam's calm breathing until he falls asleep.

The next day is uneventful. They can't get a lead on what is killing folks in town and spend the day researching and questioning locals. Dean notices how he gets more and more itchy – urging to do something, anything, instead of just wasting time. Cas had written him a text in the morning, but Dean didn't hear from him again that day.  
Two days later Sam and Dean found the special monster that they were dealing with: a human poisoning people with high dosages of insulin. It wasn't their kind of job, but since they where around already they stayed to finish it. The police were curious but thankful when they found a tied up nurse with a letter in their station the day after.

The day after, back at the bunker, Dean began to worry. It hat been five days since he had seen Cas and three days since the last text from the angel. In the past that wouldn't have been unusual, but since they got together they had seen each other close to every day, and now the silence between them became weird. His texts went unanswered and when he tried to call the angel, he only got the answering machine.  
A day later Dean was worried enough that he send one of his more of less ironic prayers, but that went unanswered, too.

It is only another two days of silence later (that Dean definitely hadn't spend pacing the bunker, driving his brother into madness, thank you very much) that his phone rings and the name of the angel pops up. Dean is quite certain he had never been so quick to pick up.

“Cas!” His voice is a mixture of worry and complaint. The angel doesn't bother with a greeting, his voice shaking and words hurried:  
“It was a trap, Dean, I'm trapped.”  
Dean's hunter instincts snap into action and he stops dead in his track: “Where are you?” Sam looks up at the change in his voice.  
“I was near Detroit when they got me. Would it be helpful to turn on my GPS?” The angel sounded weirdly off and Dean couldn't quite figure out why. There was something... dull about the way he was speaking.  
“Absolutely,” answers the hunter and gestures Sam to give Dean his laptop. Even though the parts of the conversation Sam was able to hear don't suggest something is wrong, Sam is experienced enough to gather that information from his older brother's expression. With eyes narrowed in concentration he passes his laptop, silently listening to half of the conversation.  
“How many?” Dean wants to know, typing on the laptop with the phone trapped between his chin and shoulder.  
“At least three,” mutters the angel before he interrupts himself. He is silent for long enough that Dean checks if he's still there: “Cas?”  
The answer is even quieter than their conversation before: “They're coming back. Dean...” another second of silence follows before the angel continues in a voice that sounds so scared it has Dean shudder, “please hurry.”  
“We're coming, Cas,” Dean promises with determination, “we'll get you. Hold tight.”  
A high beep lets him know that the call has been ended.  
The moment the older hunter puts down his phone Sam takes the laptop from him: “Get the keys, I'll get started on locating his phone. At the car in five.”  
Dean's first instinct is to ask how Sam knows, but he doesn't bother. The younger Winchester has an excellent instinct and it has saved their lives more than once. So the hunter gets to his feet and jogs to his room, snatching the car keys and his and Sam's emergency dufflel bags. When he walks into the garage, his younger brother is already leaning against the Impala, staring at the screen in front of him. Within five minutes they are on the road.

///

“Dean, we need to take a break.” Sam's voice is calm, too calm. It has Dean grip the wheel tighter, his knuckles white.  
The silence grows louder, but Dean doesn't plan on doing anything. Concentrated he stares at the dark road ahead, following the street signs in the direction of Detroit.  
“Stop the car,” instructs Sam and the older brother grits his teeth. His view doesn't leave the street.  
“Dean, stop the car!” The younger Winchester has raised his voice, a stern look on his face that Dean tries to ignore. But even with tightly furrowed eyebrows he sharply turns the wheel, bringing the Impala to a sudden halt on the side of the road.  
“Out of the car,” says Sam with his hand already on the handle. The bang of the door echoes into the darkness when Dean slams it harder than he meant to. With a gaze that would pierce through walls he stares at his brother over the roof of the car. Sam rounds the front of it and holds out a hand.  
“Keys. Get into the backseat, I'll wake you when I'm tired – no discussion!” He adds when Dean opens his mouth to protest. With an annoyed huff Dean drops the keys into the outstretched hand and falls into the backseat. Neither of them speak when Sam starts the car and Dean settles into the seat.  
Dean knows he should be glad his younger brother is out to take care of him. He should say thank you and tell him to drive carefully. To wake him before he gets tired. But the words don't form between his tightly pressed lips. They get stuck somewhere down his throat, right over his nervously beating heart.  
The hunter leans back in the seat and crosses his arms over his chest. When he closes his eyes it is more forced than relieved, and Dean hunts all thoughts out of his brain. It is clear that his mood is in no way fair towards his brother and that Sam has nothing to do with it, but Dean can't help himself. He has never been skilled in dealing with his emotions and he refuses to even name the ones that threaten to spill over any second.  
Even though the sleep is restless, it is a relieve.

///

In the early morning hours they were close enough to Detroit that the signs became more detailed, leading into different parts of the city and it's surroundings. They had switched three times since Sam forced his brother to sleep, so Dean was now driving again. He was calmer after a couple of hours of sleep, and he made sure to be gentle with his younger brother to let him know he was sorry for his earlier behavior. Sam (well, his laptop) had located Cas' phone slightly east of the big city, but a couple of hours into their drive the signal had vanished. They hadn't talked about it, but their thoughts were probably the same: Please let it be the battery and not some angel that found the phone.

“Where do you want to start?” The younger Winchester had asked the question once before, but they hadn't found an answer.  
“Warehouses?” Suggests Dean, gazing at the screenshot of the area where Cas' phone had last logged into the mobile net.  
“It's an old industrial area. Warehouses are basically everything there is,” states Sam matter-of-factually.  
“Then... in the middle? I don't know, Sam.”  
The younger brother looks out of the window as if he expects to just see Cas out there. In thought he asks: “Where would you hide an angel?”  
Dean laughs humorlessly: “Probably behind a lot of angel sigils.”  
“If you were an angel yourself,” deadpans Sam.  
“Don't know. Somewhere nobody would look. Maybe a kindergarten.”  
Sam raises an eyebrow: “A kindergarten?”  
His older brother just shrugs. “Their door to heaven is a freaking playground.”  
The other man just sighs. “Let's just start where we drive in and work our way along the streets.”  
“Good as any plan,” agrees Dean and takes the exit from the interstate.

///

“Did you hear that?”

It isn't the first time Dean asks. It's at least their seventh warehouse, but to be honest, Dean has lost count. Up till now it has only been dirty, crumbling rooms and scared rats or other critters.  
But it's the first time that the younger Winchester nods and stares into the same general direction as Dean does. Without looking at each other they get close to the wall, silently waiting for another sound. The second one is less clear, but still audible. Without making a noise they move through the empty halls and corridors. Quickly it becomes clear what the sound is, and it has Dean's blood boil. The only thing that keeps him from rushing towards the noise and slaughtering everything that gets into his way (at least that's how he imagines it) is the firm grip of his brother's hand around his wrist.

“Like moths flying towards the light,” a calm, male voice comments from where they had come from. They hadn't looked behind themselves anymore, a rookie mistake, Dean realizes now. The angel (judging by the angel blade in his hand) has a big smile on his lips and looks down at them with hooded, self-satisfied eyes. Dean is closer to him and so he swings first, himself armed with an angel blade. He misses when the air moves and the angel vanishes, and he is barely able to avoid the blade coming for his neck from behind. It's like he's dancing with someone who doesn't know the rules, disappearing and reappearing and messing it up. Dean is quickly frustrated, so far he hasn't done any harm to the angel, but at least he didn't get harmed either. The hunter has lost sight of his brother, but the noise coming from the direction where they heard screams earlier suggests that more fighting is going on.  
While turning around Dean stumbles over a brick on the floor, and before he can catch his balance back a sharp pain shoots through his thigh from behind. He hisses at the pain but tries to ignore it, the cut not deep enough to seriously damage his leg's function. Even though it is against his instinct Dean backs against a wall, trying to reduce the possible angles of attack to his front and his sides. Another blow strikes his arm with so much force he is tumbling, blood seeping through his clothes. It drives him angry enough that when the angel appears again, Dean is ready, shoving the blade forward and straight into the angel's side. Blue light erupts from where the angel blade meets flesh, not deep enough to kill the angel, but enough to cause some damage. Suddenly the already dim lighting from dirty neon lights bursts, sending small shards of glass flying across the place. A deep growl that sounds like thunder rolls across the room and the angel grits his teeth; Dean thinks he gets a short glimpse at the shadow of wings spreading.  
“Enough games,” bellows the angel and swings the blade, the hunter is ducking just fast enough to avoid it hitting his head. Opposite to the partly equal fight before Dean is now only defending himself, ducking and stumbling backwards out of the furious angel's reach. When he isn't quick enough once the blade slices the front of his shirt, cutting a painful wound across his chest. The hunter is trying to keep up a fight, but there isn't much he can do, too slow in comparison to the angel.

The burst of light comes without a warning. The angel in front of Dean erupts into blinding light and the hunter has to shield his eyes, but he can clearly hear the frustrated outcry of several angels. Dean has seen that before, the effect of a sigil on the flying assholes, but he can't be relieved about it at the moment. The only thing that crosses his mind is 'Cas', his angel, the angel that had been captured and he had been so close to.  
Dean turns around himself, looking for Sam, for the angel, for anything, but the only thing that he is able to see is the blood on the floor from his wounds. He knows he should have a closer look at them, but he can't at the moment.

“Dean?!”  
It's the voice of his younger brother, coming from further down the halls. So of course Dean limps towards the sound, suddenly aware of the pain in his leg.  
“'m fine,” he calls back, turning around a corner and standing in front of a staircase. Sam is at the bottom of it, taking two stairs at a time towards him. The younger Winchester appears to have done better in battle than Dean, since apart from a nasty bruise on his forehead he looks okay.  
Straightforwardly Sam pants: “Found Cas. He's asking for you.”  
Dean's heart jumps painfully in his chest: “He's here?”  
His little brother nods and turns around. “Down in the cellar. Hurry, they could be back soon.”  
The pain in his leg is forgotten and Dean almost falls down the stairs in his haste. Through a heavy metal door that Sam holds open for him he stumbles into a room that looks like an old storage space, some broken down shelves leaning against the walls and some still intact neon lights on the ceiling.  
But none of that is of any importance to the hunter as he rushes to the only chair in the room, Cas slumped and tied up on. The angel looks up to them as Sam and Dean come closer, one of his eyes swollen, nose bloody and lips cracked. The gray shirt that he is wearing under his trench coat is now covered in cuts from which blood is seeping into the fabric. His right hand is to only thing not bound to the chair, dangling on his side. It is covered in blood and by the rope around the armrest Dean guesses that Cas had ripped it free with force that left him bleeding like crazy. But what has Dean grit his teeth are the tell-tale round wounds on Cas' forehead, the ones that remind Dean of the torture instruments angels use on their own kind to extract information.  
In spite of the condition he is in, Cas' voice sounds somewhat relieved. But that is drowned out by the exhaustion and pain audible. It is a single word, something the older Winchester has heard countless times form the angel, but this time it makes his heart ache and has him swallow down a knot in his throat.  
“Dean...”  
In an instant the hunter is kneeling in front of the chair, hands hovering over the injured angel, but he isn't sure what to do.  
“Why aren't you healing, Cas? Why didn't you disappear?” Dean speaks too fast, hurried and more scared than he would admit. With a gaze at the rope around Cas' limbs he decides what to do first, reaching for the knife in his boot.  
The angel's voice is weak and tired: “They took my grace.”  
Dean looks up, he hadn't noticed before because Cas' head was hanging low, but the cut across his throat is clearly visible and bleeding into the collar of his shirt. Fury is racing through the hunter's body, and he tries to ease the anger by ripping his knife through the ropes.  
“Where did they take it?” Sam asks, he had stayed close to the door with an angel blade in his hand.  
Slowly and with apparent effort Cas raises his arm an points somewhere towards the countless shelves in the room, and without hesitating Sam begins to take them apart. In the mean time Dean has freed the former angel from his restrains and he takes a closer look at the hand that Cas had freed himself.  
“Why did you hurt yourself like that?” Dean asks with more disapproval in his voice than he meant to put in. He holds the wrist as gentle as he is able to, but Cas still pulls a face and his breath becomes more labored.  
“To paint the sigil,” he groans, pointing backwards with his other hand. Dean leans around and finds a sloppy drawing on the backrest of the chair, blood dripping down to the floor. Up to this point Dean had just assumed that Sam had drawn the sigil to save the two of them, but now everything makes sense – of course Cas had drawn it, knowing that he would stay behind without his grace.  
“Dean...” Cas' voice is quiet as he leans forward and more or less falls towards the hunter. Dean catches him, trying to avoid the most injured areas but failing badly, Cas wincing into his shoulder and Dean himself pulls a face when the angel leans against the wound on his chest. “Cas,” he tries to hold the other man upright but Cas just slumps back against him, “buddy, try to sit up, you're hurting yourself.”  
When Cas speaks it is so quiet and muffled against the fabric of his own shirt that Dean almost doesn't understand him: “Please don't make me move away from you.”  
“That's... I'm not...” Dean tries to soften his voice as much as he can, “That's not what I'm trying to do, I just don't want you to be in even more pain.”  
Cas' answer has Dean wince: “The psychological pain is worse, and it helps being close to you.”  
The hunter groans at the words and gently places his arms around Cas' upper body, carefully repositioning him in his lap.  
“I've got you,” he whispers into Cas' ear, “I've got you, you're safe.” The former angel shudders notably in his arms. Considering it a good sign Dean continues to whisper calming words and cautiously stroking Cas' back.

 

Sam, who Dean had almost forgotten at that point, approaches them quietly. He taps his brother's shoulder and holds out a small, blue glowing vile: “Found it.”  
“Great, you're awesome.” Dean carefully takes the captured grace and nudges Cas.  
“Hey, Sam's found your grace. Let's mojo you up.”  
The man in his lap doesn't move.  
“Cas?” Asks Dean and looks at the former angel. His eyes are closed and his lips slightly parted. At the mention of his name the addressed nuzzles closer to Dean's upper body and mumbles some unintelligible words. Even though Cas had been beat up and looks horrible, Dean feels how he's blushing. With surprise he states to his brother:  
“He's fallen asleep.”  
A small smile pulls at Sam's lips: “The exhaustion must have caught up to him. He looked pretty bad.”  
“Yeah,” Dean agrees. Not taking his gaze of the sleeping man he mutters: “Should we wake him?” Something in his guts tells him not to, Cas looking fairly comfortable. Also Dean realizes he had barely ever seen Cas sleep, apart from the time when Cas had been human and with them at the bunker. Sam interrupts his thought:  
“We have to. If the angels come back, we need to be as far away as possible. And it's not like we'll be able to carry him to the car without waking him.”  
Dean sighs and doesn't move. Sam's right, he knows that. Still, he would like to see Cas asleep some more. After a couple seconds of silence Sam suggests:  
“You know what? I'll wait outside. Just don't take too long, okay?”  
“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean smiles at him when the younger Winchester leaves the room.  
For a moment he just takes in the sight of Cas before he softly runs his hand through his hair. With a sigh he quietly mumbles: “Cas, buddy, we need to get going. Wake up.”  
Some more unintelligible noises come from the man against his chest. Carefully Dean places his hand on the man's shoulder and shakes him.  
“Hey, come on. We've got your grace.”  
Cas starts to stir awake and Dean places a kiss to his forehead.  
“There you are, sleepyhead.”  
The other man blinks and looks around in confusion, clearly disoriented and still half asleep. When Cas' look falls onto the chair behind him, his muscles begin to tense quickly and his eyes go wide.  
“Hey,” Dean whispers and squeezes the shoulder under his hand, “I've got you, your safe. Look!”  
The hunter holds out Cas' grace, swirling inside the glass container. Cas' eyes shortly stay on it before they wander again, looking up and down Dean's body and Cas places his hand on Dean's chest, right over the hunter's nervously beating heart. The contact seems to calm Cas down, his eyes darting back to his grace.  
“Thanks,” he whispers, voice hoarse.  
“Sam found it. How about you get it back in your system?” Suggests Dean while watching Cas stare at it. After a short silence the other man reaches out with his less bloody hand and turns it between his fingers.  
Cas avoids looking at Dean when he asks: “Would you... Can you turn around?” Dean must look pretty confused, since the other man adds, “When an angel's grace gets ripped from his body, their true form gets damaged. Especially the wings. I don't want you to see them like this.” If Dean isn't mistaken, he hears shame in Cas' words, so he nods. He's kind of sad he doesn't get to see the wings.  
“Okay. I wouldn't mind, just so you know.” Cas gives him a forced smile before he moves away from Dean's lap. The hunter turns his back to Cas and waits for something to happen.  
The light is so bright Dean has to close his eyes again. He hears the lights on the ceiling burst and – judging by the noise – the shelves are falling around them, pushed by the wave of energy that presses Dean to the ground. Just when he thinks the brightness might start to hurt him through his closed eyes it starts to get dimmer, and the invisible force settles down.  
A hand is placed on his shoulder and the shudder of Cas' healing powers wash through the hunter: “Let's go, Dean.”  
The only remain of his wounds are the cuts in his clothes and the blood all over him, and when Dean looks up to the angel, his wounds are gone, too. Still, Cas looks like he has dark shadows under his eyes and his shoulders are slumped.  
“Thanks,” mutters Dean and takes the outstretched hand from the angel to help him to his feet. He thinks he can still feel the huge rush of power surging through him, just another reminder that Cas is a freaking angel. His angel, even though Dean still sometimes has trouble believing that.

///

The three of them have been back from their rescue mission for three days now. Sam and Dean were absolutely fine since Cas had healed them, but the angel himself seemed to have suffered a lot more than physical injuries. Cas stayed closer to Dean than usual, sitting with him when he cooked, holding tools for him in the garage, helping with the shopping trip. It wasn't that Dean didn't enjoy the company, it just had him worried how Cas' eyes would widen a bit and his breath would quicken when Dean went somewhere on his own. The second night back at the bunker he woke up in the middle of the night to Cas' head on his chest, and even though he didn't complain the angel stumbled over his words when he apologized. Dean tried to ask if Cas wanted to talk about something, but the angel just shook his head and told Dean he was fine. Dean cursed himself for being the person where Cas had copied that behavior from. The angel even refused to tell them why he was captured and tortured in the first place. The show broke down on the third night back.

As always, Cas is waiting in Dean's bed when he comes back from the bathroom. And as always, Dean can't help but smile. The angel has neatly folded the covers back on Dean's side so the hunter just has to slip in next to him, it has become kind of a ritual between the two of them. Dean wastes no time and moves in close. Most of the time they just go to sleep, but the angel appears to have something different in mind today. As soon as Dean is within reach he pulls him closer, his eyes darting back and forth between Dean's eyes and lips. The hunter can't quite figure out if Cas doesn't know if Dean is okay with being kissed or if the angel tries to work out if he himself is okay with kissing Dean. Since they were back they hadn't really done anything apart from a few chaste kisses to the cheeks and foreheads. Cas still seemed to be pretty weak and Dean didn't want him to feel pressured.  
So the hunter just waits, an encouraging smile on his lips.  
“I...” Cas whispers, but he interrupts himself. The angel's eyes seek Dean's before Cas moves closer, hesitating maybe an inch away from Dean before he closes the small gap. Dean quietly sighs at the feeling of Cas' lips on his own, warm and soft. His hand moves to the angel's back and gently rubs the tense muscles in his shoulders. With a content hum Cas licks along Dean's lower lip and the hunter is quick to meet the angel's tongue. Within seconds their kiss deepens and Cas tangles his hand in Dean's hair, moving closer and holding Dean in place. Dean can feel how the tenseness in Cas' shoulders slowly lessens and the angel relaxes into him, his free hand stroking the hunter's side. As always his need for more oxygen interrupts him way to early for his liking, and in an effort to keep Cas relaxed he places soft kisses along his jaw and towards his neck.  
But when his lips barely touch the soft skin on the side of Cas' neck the angel has suddenly vanished, and Dean nearly falls face first onto the mattress. A surprised huff escapes his mouth when he tries to regain his balance and his brain is working on figuring out what happened.  
“Cas?” He asks even before he looks around, and as in response a quiet whimper comes from across the room. Quickly Dean turns towards the sound and he spots the angel, huddled down in the corner of the room with both hands around his own neck. With the knees pulled up to his chest and his wide eyes Cas somehow looks like a scared animal that has been driven into a corner.  
“Cas...” Dean whispers as he slowly crawls out of bed. The angel doesn't move, but he shivers at the sound of his name. The hunter holds up his arms:  
“I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry.” Cas viciously shakes his head. Dean stops in the middle of the room, crouching down to eye-level. He can't quite hide the desperation in his voice when he pleads: “Talk to me. What's going on?” Cas takes a few deep breaths, but doesn't answer. Dean looks around the room before he asks:  
“Can I come closer?” To his relieve the angel reacts, nodding once. The hunter sits down cross-legged in front of Cas, taking a moment to just wait if Cas is going to do something. When he doesn't, Dean tries:  
“Can I touch you?” Again, the angel nods, so Dean slowly places his hand on Cas' knee and strokes the angel in a way he hopes will help him calm down. Quietly he talks to him, just like he had done three days before:  
“I'm sorry I scared you, Cas. You are safe here. No one can get you here, Sam and I will make sure of that. Okay?” Dean is glad to see Cas nod, even though the angel has closed his eyes shut. The way his hands are clinging to his neck looks rather uncomfortable, so the hunter suggest:  
“How about you give me one of your hands? You can hold on to me, you can even come into my arms if you want to. What do you think?”  
For a moment Dean thinks Cas might not react at all, but eventually the angel clears his throat and croaks: “Can you... Could you maybe... hold my hand to your heart?”  
“Sure,” mutters Dean, ignoring his confusion. When Cas has broken his fingers free from around his neck the hunter moves closer and carefully takes the shaking hand in his own, placing it on his chest. Cas had done that when he had found him in the warehouse, he remembers, even though he hadn't paid it much attention at that time. A few moments later he can feel the shaking getting less intense and Cas' breathing seems to be evening out.  
“How does it help?” He questions, trying to understand what is going on in the angel's head.  
Cas' voice sounds broken when he answers: “It reminds me you are still alive.”  
Dean has to swallow at the words, sounding like they hide an immense amount of pain. So instead of going for 'of course I am' he decides on: “Why wouldn't I be?”  
The angel flinches and Dean feels like his heart breaks. Cas always looks calm and collected (if he isn't currently experiencing hell and collecting honey) so that it is easy to forget all the pain he is hiding away. Something the angels did to him apparently has brought back memories.  
“Okay,” Dean states determined, “Here's how this is going to go: I'll get you a cup of tea, you'll get into the bed and when I'm back, you'll tell me what you can. I'll listen and we'll figure this out, okay?” The nod from the angel is barely visible, but it's there. Dean squeezes Cas' hand and promises “I'll be right back,” before he gets up to get the tea. He knows chamomile tea probably won't have any effect on the angel, but he figures it's the thought that counts.  
When he comes back, a steaming cup of tea in his hand, Cas actually is back in the bed. He sits stiffly, hands neatly folded in his lap and gaze fixed on a point on the opposite wall. Dean passes him the tea before he gets into bed, and Cas takes a sip and places it down on the night stand. The hunter puts a pillow behind his back and lays down, so that he is barely upright.  
“C'mere,” he then tells the angel and holds his arms open. Cas just looks at him, so Dean reaches up and pulls him down, leading his head to rest on his chest, close to how he had found the angel the night before.  
“Can you hear it?” Questions the hunter and Cas hums affirmatively. Dean knows his heart is beating quite fast at the moment, affected by the touch of the angel, but there's nothing he is able to do about it.  
“'Kay,” comments Dean and strokes Cas' back, “So, what's up with the heart thing?”  
Cas sighs and the slight relaxation of his muscles turns back into tension. Patiently Dean waits when he doesn't get an answer right away. Once Cas speaks, his voice is quiet and hoarse.  
“Do you remember Naomi?”  
Dean grumbles, his brows furrowed: “How could I forget?”  
“She did a lot of things to me,” continues the angel. His face is turned away from Dean, but he doesn't have to see Cas to know his eyes are closed again.  
“Like the brain thing,” comments Dean, remembering the wounds on Cas' head from three days ago.  
“Yes,” croaks the angel, “and more.”  
When he doesn't explain, Dean probes in the softest voice he can muster: “Can you tell me?”  
The silence grows. Dean keeps stroking Cas' back and tries to breath normally to slow his heartbeat down. He doesn't know if Cas will answer at all, but he hopes that he will. There are so many things he doesn't know about the angel, so many things he should have helped him with, but he hadn't. Way too long he had just taken Cas for granted, as an indestructible fighter. Too late had he understood that Cas never had been indestructible at all. The damage just wasn't always visible. Mostly because angels, Cas' own kind, were good at hiding what they had done to him.  
“She trained me to kill you.” Cas' voice brings him back to reality.  
“Okay,” nods Dean. He had always assumed something like that had happened in the past. “They taught you how to kill and send you after me?”  
“No,” Cas shakes his head against Dean's chest. “She trained me to kill you,” he repeats, this time stressing the 'you' more clearly. Dean is uncertain how that is different from what he had said, so he doesn't know how to answer. Thankfully Cas continues on his own.  
“She had me... practice it,” his voice is about as calm as always, but in the end, it breaks. Dean's guts clench painfully when it clicks in his head what Cas is trying to say.  
“How?” He asks, even though he doesn't really know why it matters.  
“She had me practice on copies of you.” Cas turns to face Dean, and as if a seal was broken the words suddenly flow from the angel's mouth while Dean just tries to keep up. “Hundreds, Dean. And I was always scared that... that one day... it would be real you. And I was so close to making that mistake. She drilled it into my brain. And... when they tampered with my brain again, they made me... they made me relive the memory. Dean, it was much worse. So it... it helps, feeling your heartbeat. So I know you're still with me. That I didn't get you killed.”  
Cas' breath is ragged when he stops talking, his eyes huge and looking for something in Dean's face. The hunter is frowning, trying to find something to say to that revelation of pain and trauma.  
“Shit, Cas, I'm so sorry,” he eventually mutters and scolds himself for his poor choice of words. Cas rests his head back down on Dean's chest, but he stays facing the hunter. Dean gently strokes the angel's head.  
“And the neck was them taking your grace again?” Asks Dean eventually. The angel nods.  
“That and the memory of Metatron. I'm sorry about flying away. It has nothing to do with you.”  
Slowly Dean shakes his head. “Don't be. I just wont touch your neck, it's good that I know.” Cas just looks away and doesn't answer, so Dean adds:  
“I'm serious, thanks for telling me. If you talk to me I can help best as I can. But I have to know.”  
“Says the man that never talks about anything,” comments Cas and Dean huffs.  
“Some other day,” replies Dean, and he isn't quite sure if that would be considered a promise.  
A couple of seconds tick by with neither of them speaking. Dean is still running his hand through the angel's hair and Cas looks like he is listening to his heartbeat.  
After a while, he lifts his head with the hint of a smile on his lips. He sounds more confident when he speaks: “Would you like to continue what we were doing earlier?”  
Dean just can't resist the opportunity: “What were we doing earlier?”  
Cas hesitates, as if he's trying to figure out if Dean is teasing him or if he's serious. Dean decides to clarify by whispering a quick 'yes' before he pulls Cas closer to his face and kisses him. It is Dean's intention to keep it chaste, to just show Cas how much he means to the hunter, but he can't resist gently pulling and nibbling at the angel's lower lip. Quietly Cas groans and shuffles around until he has a free hand to tangle in Dean's hair. Dean's hands find their way to Cas' back, stroking and rubbing. His heart jumps at the familiar sensation of the angel's tongue against his upper lip and invitingly he parts his lips. Cas doesn't waste a second and dives to explore his mouth, licking against his teeth and cheek before their tongues meet. Dean's initial plan to keep it sweet and innocent flies out the window and he pulls Cas closer, shaky breaths interrupting their kisses. When the angel's hand cups his jaw he moves back, not even far enough for his eyes to be able to focus. He is panting when he mumbles: “We don't... I know you don't feel too well. We don't have to do anything tonight, okay?”  
Cas' breath is hot on his face when he murmurs: “This makes me feel better. I like this.” Dean chuckles. An idea begins to form in his mind, but he doesn't know how to say it, so he just kisses Cas again. The angel moves until he sits in a way he can get his second hand on Dean. It wanders under Dean's shirt and has the hunter draws in a sharp breath. Immediately the angel stops, so the hunter tugs at his lip to let him know he can continue. The palm of Cas' hand comes to rest above Dean's heart, the thumb following the outline of Dean's muscles. Dean places his own hand on top, gently squeezing through the fabric of his shirt. He lets his lips wander to Cas' ear where he whispers: “I could try to make you feel even better... if you want me to.”  
Cas takes a second to answer, and it has Dean's heart race alarmingly fast. There is confusion in the angel's voice when he asks: “What... I don't know what you mean.”  
Dean feels his cheeks redden; of course Cas doesn't know what he meant, he never did. The thought of having to spell it out has him bite his cheek. Determined to not make this awkward he moves back to look at the angel, calm eyes resting on his own.  
“If you want,” he repeats and stresses, trying to stay his usual unfazed self when it comes to stuff like this, but it just isn't working well with Cas, “I'm offering a blow job. You know what that is, right? It might lighten your mood.” Dean looks at the angel with an raised eyebrow, his heart beating faster with every second that ticks by. Eventually, Cas nods.  
“I know what that means. But you don't have to do that.”  
Dean takes a deep breath and gently kisses the stubble on Cas' cheek before he whispers in his ear: “I know I don't have to. But maybe I want to,” the hunter nibbles at the angel's earlobe, “I don't want to pressure you, just feel free to accept the offer if you feel like it.”  
The silence that follows has Dean blush even more until he regrets asking in the first place. The 'yes' from the angel in the end is just a whisper, so Dean barely hears it. He moves back to look at the angel.  
“You sure?”  
Cas' answer is sincere: “I would like to try it, if you are inclined to do it. Not that you have to.”  
Instead of answering Dean kisses the angel again, something in his guts pulling with excitement. Their kiss deepens, Cas' hands tangled in Dean's hair while the hunter places his on Cas' hips. He slips his finger under the angel's waistband an he can feel how Cas' shudders. Eventually he pulls Cas up from the bed, the angel's back turned towards it.  
Dean hates the question, but he feels like he has to ask. Most times he would be covered, but with Cas he isn't sure... He feels blood rushing to his cheeks and he has to swallow: “Cas, do... do we need, you know... a condom?”  
Cas gives him a puzzled look: “Why would we need a condom?”  
Dean's heart is stuttering. “In case of STD or something?”  
The angel's voice is as calm as ever: “I am an angel, I don't get any kind of disease. And I healed you three days ago, so if you didn't catch any since then you are healthy. Not that you could infect me anyways.”  
“Sounds like we're good to go,” mumbles Dean and hides his blush by stealing another kiss from the angel. His hands wander back down to Cas' waistband and slip his fingers under the elastic. He can feel that Cas is distracted in the way his kiss is less focused, and it makes Dean's heart jump. It delights him to know that he has such an effect on the angel.  
He pushes one of his hands between the pajama and the boxers, quickly squeezing the angel's butt before his hand wanders towards the front. Gently he runs his fingers over the soft bulge and Cas cuts a moan by breaking their kiss and biting his lip. The hunter nibbles at Cas' mouth as he whispers: “Don't hold back. I like hearing you.”  
The chuckle from the angel sounds about as nervous as Dean feels. Determined not to let it show Dean cups Cas' dick through his shorts one more time before he hooks his fingers into the elastic and pulls both pieces of clothing down. Simultaneously he crouches down, so when Cas' shorts are around his ankles he kneels in front of the man. He looks up, somehow amazed and intimidated at the same time by the new perspective. Cas meets his eyes, as observant and calm as ever, but the blush on his cheeks gives him away. And his half hard erection, of course.  
“Step out of your shorts,” asks Dean and Cas does as he is told. The hunter throws the clothes to his side and runs his hands up Cas' legs to his hips, where he pushes until the angel sinks back on the bed. With Cas a little bit lower it feels less like the angel is towering over him, but Dean is still nervous about the situation. He had received quite a few blow jobs, so he figures he knows how it's supposed to work, but he had never been on this end. Starting by placing kisses on Cas' inner thighs he works his way up the angel's legs; hands on Cas' knees urging him to spread his legs further. When the hunter looks up Cas is biting his lip again and he sounds like his breathing is uneven. Before he realizes he has done it Dean has settled between Cas' legs, his hands on the angel's hips and his erection close to his face. It is half hard, making Dean's gut clench. The hunter takes a deep breath and leans down, experimentally licking the hot skin. A hiss is audible from above him and Dean notices how the angel's muscles tense.  
He looks up and finds Cas staring at him, lips slightly parted.  
“Okay?” whispers Dean and the angel quickly nods. So the hunter doesn't question it further, lowering his head again, kissing the head of Cas' dick and licking over it. He licks his lips and with another deep breath he takes Cas into his mouth, covering his teeth with his lips as best as he can. Carefully he takes in more, pressing his tongue to the underside of the angel's dick. Judging by the moan from over his head he isn't doing too bad. He can't take it all in his mouth before he starts to notice his gag reflex, so he moves back up. The feeling of Cas' in his mouth is somehow thrilling. Cas' erection is quickly growing bigger, and Dean can feel a hand grabbing a fist full of his hair. Cas isn't pushing him though, and Dean is very glad about it. Breathing through his nose he bobs his head again, this time sucking lightly to get his cheeks around the angel's dick. The angel is hot and heavy in his mouth. One of Dean's hands slides from the other man's hip to his arousal, long fingers wrapping around the part that Dean can't fit in his mouth. When Cas' moans louder Dean feels himself getting harder in his pants, fire and excitement raging through his blood. He is now sucking more, hollowing his cheeks as best as he can and soon he can taste a drop of precome on his tongue. Dean licks across the head of Cas' dick when he comes up, and Cas tightens the grip in Dean's hair. The slight pain makes the hunter even more eager and he quickens, sucking Cas' dick and massaging it with his tongue. The angel moans his name and it stirs the arousal in his groin. It has him moan as well and it resonates through the dick in his mouth, Cas shuddering at the feeling.  
“Dean,” growls Cas lowly, “This is... I... I won't last much longer...” Dean hums in affirmation and the angel groans, his hand now putting slight pressure to the back of Dean's head. The hunter goes as far down as he can without gagging, spit covering Cas' dick an his own chin. There is something sloppy about it that turns him on, growing harder in his pants. He can feel that Cas is close, his dick throbbing in his mouth. He licks and sucks at the head again as the angel tenses, and when the first strings of come pump into his mouth he hums, since Cas seemed to like the sensation. The angel's moan is deep and long, echoing quietly in the room when his orgasm fades. Dean swallows the liquid in his mouth. It's not the best taste but not as bad as he had imagined. Both their breathing is heavy, Cas' eyes glowing and a small smile on his lips. Dean strokes his legs while the angel enjoys the afterglow, softly shuddering once in a while.  
The angel's voice is a low rumble when he whispers the hunter's name, and a fist in the front of his shirt pulls Dean up into a deep kiss. When Dean feels a hand cupping his erection he shudders, but pulls back from the kiss.  
“No,” he holds Cas' face in his hands and smiles, “that's not what this was about. You don't have to do that.”  
Cas leans in and whispers into his ear, quoting his words from earlier: “I know I don't have to. But maybe I want to...”  
Dean can't hold back the deep moan that rumbles through him, arousal shooting through his lower belly. Elegantly Cas glides to the floor and hooks his long, hot fingers into the waistband of Dean's pants, looking up from hooded eyes. The hunter isn't certain if Cas knows how seductive he looks like that or if he does it accidentally, either way it has Dean's blood boil.  
“Just tell me if I'm doing something wrong, okay?” Asks the angel with the hint of a smile. Dean's voice is already hoarse from his arousal when he replies:  
“Yeah. Don't think you could do anything that isn't hot at this point, though.” Cas chuckles and pulls at Dean's pants and boxers, the hunter lifts his hips to help. His erection springs free, swollen and some precome shimmering at the head. The angel stares at it as he pushes Dean's legs apart, and the sensation of the hand's on his sensitive skin feels like fire. Cas looks up at Dean before he bends down, and the hot, wet tongue that licks up the liquid from the head of his dick has Dean moan deeply. The angel lifts his head again, taking a second before stating: “You taste very interesting, Dean.”  
The hunter huffs, not certain if that's supposed to be a compliment or an insult, but before he can consider it further Cas takes his dick in his mouth; and every working brain cell he had a second ago vanishes. Slowly the angel bobs up and down a few times, getting used to the feeling and experimenting how much he can take in, but Dean's so aroused already that it feels incredible on its own. Needless to say, when Cas hollows his cheeks around him Dean is moaning, and he throws his head back in ecstasy. Dean has had some pretty skilled blow jobs before, but nothing compares to the knowledge that this is Cas, his angel, sucking him into his mouth because he wants to. And when he gazes down, he sees the tousled hair that always looks good and the broad shoulders bend down over him. Cas uses his fingers to cover the base of Dean's dick, just like he had done before, and Dean has to concentrate not to lift his hips and push them into the slick wetness of Cas' mouth. His moans become louder and his breath is shaky; he feels how he is way too close already. With Cas, his self control has just flown out the window ages ago.  
“Cas,” he pants and pulls at the angel's hair when he feels like he's tipping over the edge any second. “I... You don't have to...” Dean get's interrupted by the way Cas presses his tongue to the underside of his dick and a growl escapes him. “You don't have to... don't have me come in your mouth...” He presses the words out, distracted and breathing hard, “Many people don't like it...”  
Cas just hums reassuringly around his dick, and now Dean understands the reaction it has coaxed out of the angel. This time it is Dean who throws back his head again, and suddenly the hand in Cas' hair isn't pulling anymore but pushing, and he has to actively remind himself to stop doing so. But to be fair, he is pretty certain he couldn't force the angel to do anything with physical force. “I'm close,” he blurts out, wanting to give Cas a warning, his voice shaky from the hot wetness around his dick. The angel takes his words and moves his mouth up, licking over the head of Dean's dick just like he had done before. When the hunter looks down, Cas eyes him through his eyelashes and it ends Dean, his arousal unloading like lightning. The angel keeps his mouth tight around the head, and his hand strokes the rest of the dick through the orgasm. Dean is moaning, clenching a fist into the bedspread while his come is pooling in Cas' mouth. His orgasm fades slowly, leaving him breathless and with flushed cheeks. Cas licks over his dick one last time before he raises from the floor, sitting next to Dean on the bed.  
Still trying to catch his breath Dean looks at Cas and pants: “Fuck, Cas.” The rest of his words get lost when his urge to kiss the angel gets to big, and he leans in and clashes his lips to Cas'. A hint of a salty taste has his heart jump with force. The fire slowly fades from his blood and their kiss becomes sweeter, less urgent and primal and more caring. Dean pulls the angel close, running a hand through his hair and placing soft kisses all over his mouth. Cas hums in appreciation, his hand resting on Dean's bare thigh. When they break the kiss Dean's eyes shine warmly, taking in the sight of his angel. Cas' cheeks are still slightly red and his lips are swollen, shimmering wet. The hunter runs his thumb over Cas' lower lip, the rest of his hand cupping the stubbly cheek. The angel gifts him one of his favorite smiles and leans into the touch, and Dean feels a sudden warmth spread through his chest and quicken his heartbeat. Gently he takes Cas' hand from his thigh and holds it to his chest.  
“Feel that?” He asks quietly, and the angel nods.  
“That's you,” whispers Dean quietly and kisses Cas' forehead, “you're not stopping my heartbeat, you're elevating it, Castiel.”  
Cas quietly whimpers and Dean is certain that he knows, he knows that's the closest Dean has come to confessing his feelings. The hunter kisses him again, giving him a second to take in the words, before he suggests: “You okay with going to bed?”  
The angel nods and smiles again, getting up and collecting his clothes from the other side of the room, where Dean had thrown them. The hunter finds his own pants next to the bed, almost neatly placed down, and he wonders when Cas had the time to pay any attention to that.  
They turn off the light and slip under the covers, wordlessly laying in the dark for a moment.  
“How are you feeling?” Dean eventually asks into the general direction of Cas.  
“I am feeling a lot better, thank you, Dean,” answers the angel sincerely.  
“Don't thank me,” responds the hunter before he thoughtfully adds: “Is there anything else I can do? Apart from sleeping with you.” He can't hold back the sarcastic chuckle at his last words.  
“You are doing a lot more then that, Dean,” Cas states seriously before he continues in a lighter voice: “But I have to admit, that last part is pretty pleasurable.”  
“It's awesome,” agrees Dean with a grin. A yawn catches him by surprise.  
“Go to sleep, Dean,” mumbles Cas, “We can continue tomorrow.”  
“Talking or making out?” chuckles Dean, and the whispered “Whatever you want” from Cas has his heart skip a beat.  
He shuffles until he comfortably lays on his side and pads the darkness for Cas' hand. The not-so-affected-by-darkness angel takes his searching hand. Dean holds it to his chest before he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just fyi, this is my first piece of "art" ever, but I had fun with it. Hope you enjoyed the story!


	7. You're dismissing the importance of the situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter is rather short in comparison. I had a lot to do this week and struggled to find some time to write anything at all. So look at it as a teaser for what is going to come in the future :)

“Dean?”  
The hunter jumps and slips with the knife, surprised by Cas suddenly standing next to him.  
“Ow!” He calls out. Instead of into the onion the metal sliced into his index finger. It clatters as he lets go to inspect the damage.  
Suspiciously he eyes the angel that had either teleported across the room from where he had watched Dean cook or walked really quietly. He could swear he had felt cutting himself, but he can't see anything.  
“Since when do you heal people without touching them?”  
Cas looks at Dean, his head tilted, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed. “I didn't heal you.”  
“Sure,” snorts Dean and continues to chop his onion. He promised Sam to hurry making dinner. “So why did you sneak up on me?”  
“I apologize for scaring you. That was not my intention.” The hunter rolls his eyes with a smile. “But I wanted to take a look at you. It appears that you feel uncomfortable today.”  
Now it is Dean's turn to look at Cas in confusion, though he quickly focuses back on the chopping. “Why would you think that?”  
“You are constantly rolling your shoulders and arching your back.”  
The second Cas mentions it, Dean can feel the urge to shift his shoulders.  
“It's fine,” he tells the angel, only now aware of the out of place pressure in the area of his shoulder blades, “probably just slept funny and pulled a muscle or something.”  
Cas puts his hand on Dean's back, and the cold wave of power surges through the hunter's body. Dean grumbles: “Stop wasting your mojo like that.”  
“Stop refusing to let me take care of you.”  
Mumbling something inaudible Dean blushes and pulls the knife through the onion with more force than necessary. The sensation in his back hasn't changed. Not that he is going to mention it to the angel that insists on making things easy his body can deal with on his own.

///

“Can I come in?”  
The question is accompanied by a knock on the door. Dean takes a step to the right and stretches to turn the look. Cas opens the door when the hunter mumbles through his mouth full of toothpaste:  
“Since when do you follow me into the bathroom?”  
Cas squints, but he apparently understood enough of the slurred words to ask in return: “Is it inappropriate?”  
The hunter shrugs his shoulders and leans over the sink, spiting out the white foam.  
“As long as I'm only brushing my teeth, it's fine.”  
“You still seem to be uncomfortable,” Cas answers Dean's initial question, “I wanted to make sure you're okay.”  
“I am,” replies Dean, but now that the angel mentioned it the feeling of pressure works its way back into his thoughts, “but thanks.”  
“So you do no longer experience any discomfort?”  
With a sigh the hunter turns around, leaning against the sink: “Cas, really, I'm fine. It's not that big a deal, it'll go away eventually.”  
The angel's face is more serious than Dean would like it to be, and he has the urge to kiss the small wrinkles away from his forehead. Cas interrupts his line of thoughts.  
“I don't think you understand, Dean. You have a physical problem that didn't get healed when I touched you. And I don't know what the cause of it is. It worries me.”  
“Really, it's not that bad,” Dean tries to assure Cas, but he doesn't look convinced.  
“Show me your back.” It's not an order, but it definitely isn't a question either. Dean hesitates before he sighs, turns around and pulls his shirt over his head. Cas' warm fingers elevate his heartbeat as they run over his bare skin. Dean is surprised at how quickly the angel is able to zero in on the area where the pressure seems to sit under his skin. When his thumbs run over the spots, Dean can't help but hum, a pleasant, tingling sensation running through his body. The angel doesn't seem to be as pleased.  
“You have some swelling on your back.”  
Dean turns around and plucks Cas' hands out of the air. “Those are my shoulders, Cas. They don't have to be all even and flat.” Cas opens his mouth as if to protest, but Dean cuts him off. “And I am much more interested by the fact that you followed me into the bathroom and got me out of my shirt already...”  
As always, Cas stays unfazed: “I came to look after you.”  
“Okay, so, take a look.” Dean barely hides a grin when he presses Cas' hands to his stomach and the angel's eyes trail down his upper body. For a second Dean thinks Cas might not catch on or might not be interested, but then the angel traces his hands over the front of Dean's body. The hunter watches Cas stare at his chest and feels how blood starts to pool in his cheeks (and somewhere else), his heart jumping in excitement about how easy Cas had been distracted. His own hand works its way below several layers of Cas' clothing (he hadn't changed into his sleepwear yet, still wearing his favorite clothes from trench coat to backwards tie).  
Cas looks up at him, his pupils blown wide. “Dean,” he rumbles, and the hunter feels like he's shuddering at the dark tone of his voice, “are you distracting me on purpose?”  
“Maybe,” mutters Dean, and his free hand grabs Cas' tie to pull him in for a kiss. The angel lets him have his way for a moment, soft lips moving against each other, before he pulls back.  
His voice is low: “You're dismissing the importance of the situation.”  
“I got distracted when you had me take my shirt off.” Again the hunter tugs at Cas' tie, but this time the angel doesn't budge. He stares at Dean, his face undecipherable and a hint of his true power lingering in his eyes. Something about it has Dean's breath hitch and it sends a shiver down his spine.  
When Cas suggests: “Then maybe you should take more clothes off,” Dean chuckles uncertainly. Not letting the opportunity slide though he hooks his fingers in his pants before he asks: “Want me to take my pants off?”  
“I would like that,” states the angel, and the weight of his eyes makes Dean shudder as he slides the pants down his legs and chucks them to the side.  
Now only his boxers, that do not hide how affected he is by their little exchange, Dean grins at the angel: “Planing something?” For the first time since he came into the room Cas drops his gaze and a faint blush darkens his face.  
“Not exactly. But I have to admit that I can't quite shake the memory of yesterday.”  
Dean's grin deepens as he slips his index fingers between Cas' skin and pants. “You're not supposed to shake the memory. I guess you liked it?”  
The angel looks at the hunter again, his eyes dark.   
“I did.”  
Dean leans in and whispers into his ear: “Wanna repeat what we did?”  
“If you feel comfortable doing so?”  
The hunter guides Cas backwards until he leans against the door and Dean turns the look again, just to be sure. He wants to ask 'Do I look uncomfortable?', but he fears that might remind Cas of why he initially came after him, so his just kisses the angel. Cas makes a quiet happy noise when their tongues meet and their kiss becomes hot and needy. The angel's hands are roaming across Dean's back and almost accidentally over his butt sometimes, until Dean breaks the kiss, out of breath.  
Teasingly slow he crouches down, his fingers hooked into Cas' pants but not pulling, eyeing the angel from below. Cas flexes his hands next to his hips as if he has difficulties being patient.  
“Want me to... do it again?” Dean asks and his eyes shift to the bulge in Cas' pants. He wanted to ask in a more obscene way, but he isn't sure how Cas would react to it. Dean reminds himself how new they both are to this, and that they don't have to rush anything.  
“Yes,” breathes Cas deeply and Dean shivers. His fingers make quick work of the fly before he pulls Cas' pants down to his ankles. A grin spreads over his face at the sight of Cas' erection, a bead of precome shimmering at the head. He quickly looks up at Cas again, to make sure the angel is okay, but the red cheeks and slightly parted lips speak for themselves.  
A shaky breath leaves Cas' mouth as Dean licks over his slit, humming at the salty taste of precome from the angel. His hands grip Cas' hips and he settles on his knees, the thin rug on the floor at least somewhat better than the bare tiles. He presses his tongue along the shaft, licking the underside of Cas' dick and flicking over the head of it. The angel's breath is now clearly audible, and one of his hand slips into Dean's hair.  
When Dean finally takes Cas into his mouth the latter moans and grips a tuft of hair on Dean's head. The hunter hums at the sensation and while he is still just barely taking Cas in, one of his hands wanders down Cas' thigh. As he cups the angel's balls Cas jumps at the sensation, so Dean pulls back, even though Cas grumbles in protest.  
“Not good?”  
Cas' voice is rumbling with a surge of power that gives Dean goosebumps when the angel cautiously insists: “More, Dean.”  
The hunter's breath hitches and he goes down again, no longer teasing but sucking Cas' dick deep into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and stroking the base with his free hand. Arching his back the angel moans again, now both his hands tangled in Dean's hair as he bobs his head. Quickly Dean's chin is wet with spit and the sounds he makes sucking Cas sound more obscene, but it feels like it is only spurring the angel on. Carefully he rolls the balls in his hand, and flicking his tongue over the head of Cas' dick coaxes a delighting shaky breath out of the angel. Dean can feel that Cas is getting closer by the way his hands tighten in his hair, making it slightly painful.  
When he goes down again the pressure from Cas' hands is suddenly too strong for him to move away, and for a second he panics at the thought of possibly gagging. But he doesn't, Cas' dick buried in his mouth but not deep enough to trouble him, fire runs through his body and straight to his own cock, and it is only a split second before Cas immediately let's go and lifts his hands.  
“Sorry!” The angel pants, “Sorry Dean, I didn't mean to push you.” The addressed hums and keeps sucking Cas' dick, but the angel continues: “Dean, I mean it, I apologize...”  
With an obscene sound Dean lets Cas' dick glide out of his mouth, and out of breath he interrupts the angel's apology: “Don't apologize, Cas.”  
“I won't do it again.”  
If it wasn't for the haze in his mind because of his own arousal and the red, swollen cock right in front of him, he would have probably never said: “I like it, Cas. Guide me. Just don't make me gag.”  
Dean can hear how Cas draws in a shaky breath.  
“Really?”  
Already back on Cas' dick Dean just hums affirmatively, and to stress his point he grabs one of Cas' hands and fists it into his hair. The moan it coaxes out of the angel goes straight to Dean's dick, and the hunter can't help himself but shove his hand in his boxers. It only takes Cas a few enthusiastic bobs of Dean's head before he tightens the grip in his hair again. Dean strokes his own dick and moans around Cas in his mouth, leading to the angel holding him down for a second longer before Dean comes up again, licking over the head. Dean is quick to understand what Cas wants from him, to stay down a moment longer, to move a touch faster, and leaning in to the strong hands to tell him how to pleasure Cas has Dean's blood boil. Impatiently he pushes his boxers down, speeding up his own strokes and pressing his tongue to Cas' dick harder. The angel is tensing up, his cock throbbing in Dean's mouth and his noises get more needy. On his way downwards Cas suddenly grabs Dean's hair so tight it has him whimper, and his hold is strong enough that Dean can't get back up, even though the angel doesn't push himself deeper than Dean took him on his own. The feeling has Dean's heartbeat elevate and when Cas' dicks pulses and liquid pools in the back of his mouth Dean moans, giving himself a few last strokes before he comes hard in his hand.  
The grip in his hair loosens and Cas leans against the door, breathing heavily and looking down on Dean. The hunter moves back and swallows the salty liquid, but suddenly chokes. He coughs and Cas is immediately on eye level with him: “Are you okay? Was that me?”  
Smiling Dean shakes his head as he tries to catch his breath.  
“Just the wrong pipe. Didn't mean to breath you in.”  
Cas gifts him with a broad smile back before his look falls on Dean's come covered hand and his mostly soft dick. The angel tilts his head.  
“Did you come already?”  
Dean chuckles and blushes, hiding it by getting to his feet and washing his hands.  
“Yeah, sorry. That was pretty hot.”  
For a moment Cas doesn't answer, and Dean is too nervous about what he might see to turn around. But after a while, the angel finds his voice:  
“I can't decide if I find your impatience arousing or if I want to tell you to let me do it next time.”  
The blush on Dean's face deepens, but he turns around and tugs Cas by his tie into a deep kiss. His chin is still covered in spit and some beads of come, but neither of them care. The kiss is sloppy and sweet, hazy through their post orgasm glow.  
After a while, Cas pulls away and places short kisses along Dean's jaw.  
“Let's get you to bed,” he mumbles.  
Dean sighs. “You're fucking awesome, you know that, right?”  
His angel just smiles.


	8. I can tell you're lying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut today, because a lot of other stuff happens. But it will be back next week, it's already written :)

Warm fingers are running through his hair when he slips out of his dream. It had been one of the good ones, involving Cas and some of the things they had been doing over the past couple of weeks. It has him blushing even before he blinks and looks at his angel. For a second he thinks he sees it again, a shadow behind Cas. But when he looks closer, it's gone, just like it had been the last days. Sometimes he thinks he might go insane. But if that's the consequence of sleeping with his angel, he will gladly take it.  
The furrowed brows and sad eyes of the angel rip him out of his dream fantasies, though.  
“Good morning, Dean,” the angel whispers before the hunter can ask: “What's wrong?”  
Without answering Cas looks at him a moment longer, his hand gliding from his hair over his neck and further down.  
“You rolled onto your back tonight,” the angel finally states when his fingers run over his shoulders.  
“So?”  
“Dean, you flinched and whimpered before you immediately turned back on your stomach again. I am surprised you didn't wake up, it sounded pretty painful.”  
“Oh.” The hunter sits up in his bed, ignoring the uncomfortable pressure and stretch over his shoulder blades. Since that day in the bathroom he had assured Cas again and again that he was fine, but by now even he has to admit that maybe something is a little bit off.  
“Let me see,” asks the angel and reaches for Dean's shirt, but the hunter pulls back. Cas' eyes widen just a little bit, but Dean recognizes the hurt in his eyes anyway.  
“It's fine, Cas.” He reaches out to take the hovering hand in his own, and this time it is the angel who moves away. Dean's heartbeat quickens when the corners of Cas' mouth turn downwards and his eyes darken.  
“I can tell you're lying, Dean. It's been two weeks, and I don't know why you are so eager not to let me help.”  
Cas' voice becomes quieter, but not less stern. His eyes are clear when he looks at Dean.  
“Don't you want me to know? If you don't want to be with me anymore, tell me now. It is unfair to have me suffer for longer than necessary.”  
Dean swallows hard. He had been lying, there was no point in denying it. But he hadn't known it affected Cas like that.  
“Don't be stupid, 'course I want to be with you. Just didn't want you to worry.”  
“Dean, I might not be that skilled when it comes to human interaction, but even I know enough to understand that a relationship isn't working well when lies are involved.”  
Suddenly Dean becomes aware of what he had been doing. What was he thinking, not telling Cas? Lies were able to end relationships, and that was definitely not what he was aiming for. He clears his throat before he mumbles: “You're right. 'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied.”  
“So why did you?”  
“Um,” Dean stutters, his cheeks reddening, “I meant it. Didn't want you to worry. I thought it would just go away.”  
Cas' voice doesn't change, but he takes the hand that Dean had let fall down on his leg.  
“How bad does it has to get before you are able to accept that some things don't just go away?”  
Dean avoids Cas' eyes when he mumbles: “Most of the time? Pretty bad.”  
Cas sighs deeply and quickly kisses his forehead. Then he insists: “Show me now. Please.”  
Slowly the hunter turns his back to the angel. Dean knows how his back looks, with painful turns and twists he inspects it every evening. Two spots, close to his shoulder blades, have swollen and under the skin a weird shimmer is visible. He has never seen something like it and maybe, Dean has to admit, not telling Cas was his way to ignore the problem.  
He grabs the shirt at the back of his neck and with a sigh he pulls it over his head. A sharp inhale is followed by a accusatory “Dean!”  
“'m sorry,” the hunter whispers again, slouching his shoulders.  
“Does it hurt?” Dean can hear the angel move closer and feels the mattress dip behind himself.  
“Little bit. It's mostly out of place pressure.”  
“Don't lie.”  
“Fine,” Dean sighs, “it doesn't hurt just a little bit. In the beginning it was just uncomfortable, but now it feels like my skin might burst.”  
Gentle, warm fingers run over the two swellings. The pressure eases and the tingling sensation elevating his heartbeat returns. Intuitively Dean leans into the touch.  
“Am I hurting you?” Questions the angel and Dean is quick to shake his head.  
“Feels good. Your fingers feel good on the spots.”  
“Weird,” mutters Cas and runs cautious circles over the swollen skin. Dean hums in appreciation. The cold sensation of healing power running through him doesn't feel as good.  
“Doesn't work, Cas.”  
“I noticed,” grumbles the angel, “it has me worried. Maybe...”  
When Cas doesn't continue, Dean eventually makes a questioning sound. Ignoring it, Cas thinks out loud:  
“We should show Sam. Maybe he has a idea.”  
The hunter's answer is more of a whine: “No, don't make me.”  
“Dean, you have been avoiding my help for two weeks. Now you have to accept it all at once, that's not my fault.”  
Muttering inaudible words Dean pulls the shirt back over his head and grumpily follows the angel. They find Sam in the library - as always. His nose is buried in two books at the same time. Without looking up from his research he asks: “Did you know werewolves have a weakness for chocolate? They are just like dogs, we could poison them with it.”  
“Doesn't sound as effective as silver,” states Dean simply and his younger brother sticks his tongue out.  
“We need you to look at something,” Cas announces and Dean rolls his eyes. Of course the angel immediately has Sam's full attention:  
“Sure, what is it? Have you found us a new case?”  
“I am worried about your brother. He has unusual swelling on his back.”  
Sam raises his eyebrows: “You do? Why didn't you say something? Does it hurt?”  
“Barely,” mumbles Dean his eyebrows still pulled together. Cas corrects him:  
“He was in severe pain when he laid on his back at night.”  
The younger Winchester smirks, probably at the fact that Cas knows how Dean sleeps at night. Dean and Cas don't hide their sleeping arrangements, but they have never spoken to Sam about it, either.  
“Show me,” orders Sam and looks at Dean expectantly. A silent curse on his lips the hunter turns around and pulls his shirt over his head again. He hears his brother step closer, and in his mind he can see the serious face he is making. When the silence becomes uncomfortable, Sam finally asks:  
“Are you making fun of me?”  
Dean frowns, but Cas is first to answer: “No, Sam, why would you think that?”  
Sam sounds annoyed when he states: “His back is perfectly fine. What do you want me to look at?”  
“The swelling,” repeats Cas, as if Sam might have had forgotten.  
“What swelling? This isn't funny, guys.”  
“That swelling!” Now the angel sounds about equally annoyed as Sam does, and Dean doesn't know what to think of it. He can feel skin against the bumps again and flinches, not because it hurt, but because the area is sensitive to Cas' touch.  
The younger Winchester grabs Dean by the arm and pulls him around. His eyebrows are raised and his voice is slightly annoyed when he asks: “What's this about? I can't see anything on your back, so tell me why I should.”  
“It's there, Sam. I saw it yesterday evening and I can feel it right now. Run your hand over my back, you can't miss it.”  
Sam sighs and does as he is told, a big hand on Dean's back.  
“Still nothing, Dean,” announces the younger Winchester and Dean tilts his head. “Cas,” he starts and turns to look at the angel, “I can't even feel his hand against the skin like I can feel yours. Something is...”  
The look on Cas' face makes him stop talking. Somewhere in his mind had he noticed that the angel hadn't said anything for a while, but he hadn't thought about a reason for it. Now he finds the angel staring at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. He looks like he has just seen a ghost, but to be honest, Cas had probably seen enough ghosts not to be impressed by it anymore.  
“What's wrong, Cas?” Dean asks suspiciously, eyes narrowed and bracing himself for bad news.  
His younger brother joins in: “Have you figured it out? You have, haven't you?!”  
“I...” begins Cas, but stops again. Dean thinks the angel's face turns even more pale, “I... maybe.”  
“Do tell,” insists Dean, crossing his arms in front of his bare chest.  
“Dean, I... this wasn't... I didn't know this was even possible... And I'm not certain, so... I mean...”  
“Just spit it out,” interrupts the older brother, shifting his weight. The angel quickly glances at Sam.  
“Remember Sam and the demon blood?” Cas asks, his voice calm but quiet.  
“Yeah?” Replies Sam, but Dean isn't able to answer. Cogwheels are turning in his head, putting the comparison to demon blood in order.  
“No.” He mumbles, staring at Cas in disbelieve. The angel looks equally shocked as he feels. “No,” Dean repeats. Shadows behind the angel. Cutting himself without a wound. Two things on his back. “No!” This time his voice is louder, protesting, raging. Sam is just looking from Dean to Cas and back.  
“What?” Sam asks, the confusion written all over his face, “What do you mean? Did you consume demon blood?”  
Still staring at Dean Cas whispers: “Not demon and not blood...”  
“No,” is all Dean can say, before he forces, “tell me those aren't... No Cas, tell me what you think. Say it, out loud. Tell me!” He had gotten louder, now basically yelling, his eyes wide and taking small steps backwards. The two lumps on his back were now aching, pulsing as if his realization was influencing them.  
Cas opens his mouth and closes it again, eyeing Sam before he takes a deep breath and mutters:  
“Wings.”  
This time, it is a scream: “No!” At the same time, Sam calls out: “What?!”  
“I am so sorry Dean,” mumbles Cas, frowning. Dean grabs his shirt tighter, taking two more steps back. He yells: “Are you kidding? I am growing fucking wings on my back?! You're KIDDING, right?”  
“Please take a breath, Dean,” asks Cas quietly, taking a step towards Dean only for the hunter to take two more backwards. At the same time Sam is questioning: “Why would you grow wings? Wait, did you drink angel blood? Wait, no, you said not blood. Did you consume something else?”  
Cas' voice isn't even changing while Dean's face turns dark red at the angel's words: “Maybe other bodily fluids work just like the blood does.”  
The thought process is written all over Sam's face, until his eyes widen when he gets it: “You two... Oh no, no no no no no, I don't want to know. Really? Wings? You did...”  
Dean had listened to their voices, but they hadn't quite reached him. He is only able to whisper: “I... I am hooked on angel... angel... juice...” His back is hurting and his mind is spinning, and before he thinks about it, he turns around and runs. The two men are calling after him, but Dean doesn't even hear what they are saying. Before he thinks about it, he is in the garage and in the Impala, sitting way to straight so that his back doesn't touch the seat, and he drives. He doesn't know where to, he doesn't even look where he is, he just puts his foot down and he drives. Dean is quite certain that he has gone mad.

///

Dean is sitting on the hood of the Impala and staring into the sky. The stars are out, somehow the whole day had passed without him noticing. He had been driving for a long time, not paying attention to where he was, his thoughts circling. When he didn't feel like driving anymore, he had parked on a deserted road somewhere in the desert and sat back, staring into the distance. His mind had been racing, trying to make sense of what was happening.  
He was growing wings.  
Of course he had tried to look at his back, but he couldn't see anything without a mirror. He tried to reach back, and he could feel the lumps, but to him it just felt like swollen skin. In his mind the image of yesterday evening popped up, the shimmer he had been able to observe. Somehow he wondered if that had been a glimpse at the wings.  
He was hooked on angel... juice. Just because he didn't want to call it “bodily fluids” or something worse.  
Dean couldn't tell if he was addicted like Sam had been. He didn't feel like it, but that didn't have to say anything. At some time he wondered if it was reversible like Sam's powers had been, if he stayed 'clean' long enough. But pretty quickly he was wondering what 'clean' meant. Did it mean no sex? Did it just mean using condoms? Or did they have to stop kissing? And Dean couldn't make up his mind what Cas might think about it. Would he want him to be more of an angel? Or would he hate Dean changing?  
The hunter knew he should text Cas and Sam from one of the burner phones in the glove compartment of the Impala, but he wasn't ready to face them. Cas, especially. After a couple of hours he was able to admit that he was absolutely scared. His life had suddenly spiraled completely out of his control.

A long time into staring at the stars he sighs and finally gets up from his spot on the Impala. Exhausted he lets himself drop into the driver seat and rummages for one of the spare phones. Cas picks up after the first beep.  
“Dean, are you okay? Where are you?”  
“Somewhere on Nebraska 95. Close to Route 285, American Legion Memorial Highway.”  
Another beep signals Dean that Cas has hung up. About thirty seconds later the air shifts and the angel sits in the passenger seat, looking as pale as Dean thinks he probably does, too.  
“Hello, Dean,” Cas says quietly, and Dean nods in acknowledgment. Now that he knows what to watch out for, the shadows had been more clear. He was just able to see them for a split second, but what he had seen had been wing shaped. A shudder runs down his spine. Will he have that shadow, too? The angel interrupts his train of thoughts:  
“Dean, I am really sorry. I should have known, and I should have been more careful. I get that you're angry, and I really want to make up for it. Maybe-”  
The hunter holds up his hands and with exhaustion reassures: “I'm not mad at you, Cas. This is as much my fault as it is yours.”  
Frowning Cas looks at him without saying anything.  
“Promise. 'm not mad.” Dean says again, probably because the sad look on Cas' face makes him feel even worse.  
Eventually, the angel nods once. After swallowing Dean murmurs:  
“Sorry for running. I panicked.”  
“Sam and I were worried sick,” whispers Cas and looks out of the window. Dean has the urge to touch him and hold him close, but he doesn't know if Cas would want that right now. So he follows his example and stares into the darkness.  
The angel is the first one to break the silence: “What scares you?”  
Dean huffs, but there's no humor in it. His voice sounds strained: “Wings, Cas? Having some sort of angel powers because I had sex with you?”  
“I meant what scares you about the angelic features.”  
When Dean casts a quick glance at Cas, he is still looking out the window and his face is undecipherable. The hunter has to clear his throat.  
“Um...” he stutters, “it's... you know, huge... we don't know what might happen... a big change and stuff...”  
“Sam started researching already,” informs the angel.  
“Find anything?” Dean's heartbeat quickens, even though he doesn't know what to hope for.  
'It will go away in two days' or 'It won't harm you, you can keep going'?  
But Cas shakes his head, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “We tried to think about how it was for Sam with the demon blood. But we can't be certain it's the same, there are a few differences between demons and angels.”  
“Will it be reversible, like it has been with Sam?”  
Dean can't interpret the look that Cas gives him, a long frown before he turns away again.  
“It wasn't reversible for Sam. That first drop of blood from Azazel when he was a baby changed him, and that can't be undone. When I look at him, his true face still has traces of his time on demon blood. They're faint, but they're there. I think if you...” for a moment the angel stops speaking, and Dean is wondering if he will continue his thought at all. “If you don't consume anything angelic anymore, your abilities will probably fade and your wings won't grow any bigger.”  
The hunter's voice is quiet when he asks: “But they'll stay?”  
Cas shrugs his shoulders. “I'm only guessing. But the bodily changes stayed with Sam, so I guess they would stay with you, too, The wings... they would... probably get weak and small... like a limb you never use.”  
Something in the angel's voice sounds like he's hurting, so Dean reaches out and pats his shoulder before he remembers how insecure he had been about it. But as Cas doesn't flinch or pull away he just lets his hand rest on his shoulder, the contact calming his mind. Cas is with him. Sam is okay. He will be okay.  
“Cas?” He is asking quietly, afraid of the answer, “Do you... Does this suck for you? You know, me growing wings and stuff?”  
When the angel turns to face the hunter his eyes are wide: “No, it doesn't. But it bothers you. You dislike this.”  
Dean shrugs his shoulders. “Don't say that. I'm just... scared. Of what this will do to... you know, us. What this means.”  
“What could it mean?”  
The thought of 'I don't want this to ruin our relationship' runs through his head, but Dean can't form the words to say it out loud. So instead he leans over to Cas and kisses him, gentle but urgent. To his relieve, after a second of surprise, the angel kisses back, a warm, rough hand cupping Dean's cheek. Dean mutters: “I don't want it to change anything about us.”  
Cas' voice is a whisper into his mouth that makes his heart jump: “Me neither...”  
Their kiss becomes more needy, driven by the angst of the day, and Cas pulls back to mumble against Dean's mouth:  
“Sam said saliva didn't affect him.”  
Dean chuckles and takes the hint, parting his lips for their tongues to meet, and Cas quietly groans. The hunter grabs at the fabric of Cas' shirt, pulling him close to his chest. The second hand of the angel strokes his back, carefully running over the stretching skin on his back. Sighing Dean mumbles: “That feels really good, Cas.”  
This time the angel chuckles. “Wings are pretty sensitive to touch.”  
“Oh,” mutters Dean and turns red, even though he doesn't really know if he needs to.  
The sigh from Cas is less enjoying and more worried: “You said they feel like bursting through your skin?”  
Dean makes an agreeing sound, not quite ready to stop kissing.  
“We might... we might have to get them out,” states Cas. The statement is enough to have Dean pull back.  
“What?! What do you mean with 'get out'”  
“Again, I'm only guessing, but I think they might either grow until they break your skin, or we have to create a way for them to come out...”  
The panic is instantly back, Dean's heart racing and his eyes wide. His voice is raised again:  
“You want to cut the wings out of my back?!”  
Cas stays calm in a way that makes Dean jealous.  
“I'm not doing anything you don't want me to do. I just stated your... our options.” When the angel spots Dean's pale face he suggests: “You know what? Let's just drop the topic for today and drive home. You haven't eaten properly all day and I bet you're hungry.”

///

“Cas! Don't move!”  
The angel stands still, eyeing Dean worried. Sam looks at Dean in an equally confused way. The pot Cas had leaned over to put on the table hovers in his hand, just a few inches over the table. Dean takes it from the angel and places it down, his eyes focused on Cas. He gets to his feet and puts his hands on Cas' shoulders, guiding him so that he stands between the light on the ceiling and Dean. Only when Sam insists “What's going on, Dean?” Dean whispers, his jaw dropped:  
“I can see them...”  
“What?” asks Sam, but Cas' eyes widen when he questions: “Really?”  
Dean nods and stares at the shadowy, blurry image in the air. The light from behind makes it barely visible and when he moves too much, the color fades until he isn't able to see anything anymore. But if he doesn't move, the image is clear enough. Cas' wings are folded on his back, like shadows hugging him from behind. They are bigger than the man, and just as impressive as Dean remembers from the one time he had seen a similar shadow at their first meeting years ago. They do look damaged, feather shadows sticking out at places they probably shouldn't, but Dean isn't able to make out details.  
“Do you think they could become clearer?” Dean is still whispering and Cas' voice is equally quiet when he mumbles “Maybe.”  
Sam doesn't care about how loud he is when he asks: “Anyone mind filling me in on what's happening?”  
The smile on Dean's face feels genuine when he looks at his brother and explains: “I can see the wings.”  
The younger Winchester's jaw drops and Dean can imagine how jealous Sam has to be. He has always been the curious know-it-all of the family, and now Dean and Cas can see something that is not accessible to him. His voice is astonished when he asks:  
“How do they look?”  
Dean can feel blood collecting in his cheeks and he bites his lips. He feels like saying something really sappy and stupid, and he has to clear his throat to collect his thoughts.  
“Um... Like really blurry shadows. Can you...” cautiously Dean looks at Cas, who's eyes are still widened. The hunter stretches out his arms for a second, blushing more when he realizes how silly that must have looked. He can feel Sam staring at him, watching his movements closely. But he can't care less when Cas sharply nods and the blurry shapes behind his back shudder, as if Cas is shaking them, before they pull away from his back and spread across the room. Dean wants to make a sarcastic comment, wants to take some of the intensiveness of the situation by cracking a joke, but his mind goes blank. He can't see them completely, where the wings moved too far from the light behind Cas they fade until Dean can't perceive them anymore. But the parts visible to him make him want to reach out, run his fingers through them. Partially to see if they feel as awesome as they look, partially because they look kind of chaotic, like hair after a particular stormy day.  
“What's happening?” Questions Sam, his eyes still focused on Dean even though the interesting stuff is happening behind Cas.  
“Cas spread them out. They're fucking impressive.”  
“I would have thought so,” comments Sam and pouts.  
One of Deans favorite smiles tugs on Cas' lips and with another shudder the wings fold back behind the angel. Cas steps away from the light, closer to Dean. With a soft kiss to the forehead the angel whispers: “Thank you for the compliment, Dean.”  
Dean grins contently.


	9. I'm not just asking anyone

“Alright, that's it!” yells Dean and sits up in bed. Confused, Cas looks up from the small book in his lap.  
“That's the fourth time I woke up tonight because I accidentally rolled onto my back. Get them out!” In his complaint he jumps out of bed and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Cas doesn't move from his spot in the bed.  
“You changed your mind?”  
Dean basically rants: “I can't sleep, they fucking hurt, and we can't find any case of a human growing wings. Not one that doesn't sound like made up bullshit at least. And they still grow, even though I haven't had sex with you in three days!”  
“We did have...” Dean interrupts Cas' protest.  
“Not any involving me swallowing stuff.” The hunter is pretty certain he is blushing, but it probably doesn't show, since his head is red from complaining already. Cas just shrugs his shoulders.  
“Get them out,” repeats Dean and the angel's eyes widen.  
“You want me to cut them out?”  
“Who else am I going to ask?” Counters Dean. “Sam can't see them and I have yet to find a hospital that specializes on supernatural medical problems.”  
“Um...” Cas looks away, his usually sturdy confidence suddenly damaged, “You don't want to ask just anyone. Wings are... vulnerable. You...”  
Dean sits down on Cas' side of the bed (yes, they kind of have sides now) and interrupts:  
“I'm not just asking anyone. I'm asking you, Cas.”  
The deep blue eyes meet his and Dean's heart jumps. To emphasis his point he takes Cas' hand and holds his to his chest, a soft smile on his lips. After a couple seconds of silent staring Cas nods.  
“Great. Let's do this!” Dean stands up and turns towards the door when Cas questions:  
“Right now?”  
“Why not?” The hunter turns back around, noticing that Cas still hasn't moved. The angel at least closes his book when he responds:  
“We could wait for Sam to wake up and have him help me by commenting.”  
For a moment, Dean just looks at the angel in an attempt to find out what spooks the usually so confident man. It's not as if he hasn't enough medical skills to make two clean cuts and take the wings out. The hunter pulls the chair from his desk and places it in front of Cas, sitting down, leaning forward and propping his lower arms on his thighs. Glancing up at the angel he asks:  
“What's worrying you, Cas? Talk to me.”  
Slowly Cas places his book on the bed, staring at it before he turns to Dean and quietly explains himself: “I worry that when the wings are out, you can't ignore what is happening anymore. I worry you might change your mind.”  
The point about Dean rather ignoring things than dealing with them is solid, but the hunter has to question the second part: “Change my mind about what?”  
Cas looks at him, the brows over his blue eyes furrowed: “Being with me. Because it changes you.”  
The hunter swallows and shakes his head. This conversation is turning way too emotional way too quickly for his liking. He had hoped to have this conversation a lot later, but now his own thoughts and worries pop to the surface. At night he had walked through different scenarios in his head, trying to figure out how things might go further down the line. He has come to terms with what he wants, but not knowing what Cas thinks has his heartbeat elevate. So, ignoring the statement from his angel, Dean questions:  
“What if I turn more... you know, angelic. Does it bother you?”  
Cas tilts his head in the way that always has Dean melt. “No, Dean, it doesn't bother me. I worry about your well-being, though.”  
“So you would still want me with wings and crazy healing abilities?”  
The angel shakes his head as if the thought is absurd, and he frowns deeply. His voice is quiet. “Dean. Can you imagine how exciting this is for me? We could interact on a whole new level. You can perceive more of me than before, and you have been really enthusiastic about it even though you probably hate it. This is...”  
Dean interrupts the angel once again: “I told you, don't say that. Why do you think I hate it?”  
“You ignored it, didn't want me to look and ran when we figured it out.” The angel is now staring at the wall behind Dean, avoiding the humans gaze. A plan is forming in Dean's head and with his heart hammering he places his hand on Cas' knee. His voice low he repeats: “So you are okay with me changing?”  
The angel sighs deeply and replies downcast: “Yes.”  
Dean crouches down in front of the angel and taps him, waiting until Cas looks at him before he firmly states: “Me too.”  
Cas raises an eyebrow, obviously not convinced by the human kneeling on the floor in front of him. So Dean adds: “And I'll show you.”  
“How?” Cas tilts his head again, and Dean keeps his eyes on Cas' as he gently pushes the man's legs apart. By now his heart his racing and his hands are shaking, but he is determined (and stubborn once he has decided on something). Not saying anything Dean runs his hands up and down the Cas' thighs. His thumb grazes the inside of them, the sensible spots on the angel's skin. When the angel shudders a small grin pulls on Dean's lips, and his hands move more confident up to the seam of Cas' pants. Two fingers under the waistband the hunter stops and his face becomes serious. Calmly he whispers: “I really want to show you, Cas. But if you don't want this, tell me to stop now and I will.”  
The way Cas' voice fails him when he tries to speak makes Dean's skin burn with desire. “No... This is... acceptable...”  
Dean huffs and grins upwards before he tugs on the fabric of the pants. With Cas' help he pulls them off and blindly places them behind himself, aiming for the chair but hearing them fall. The sight in front of him has him distracted too much to care. Again he trails the angel's tights, but this time the warm skin beneath his fingertips sends lightning through his body. A hand strokes his own upper arm, not urging, but gentle and affectionate. Dean tries to give back the pleasant feeling by leaving kisses on Cas' legs, and he notices how his lips form into a smile without any intention to do so. Another hand runs through his hair, and for a second the hunter closes his eyes and dwells on the thought that he actually feels at peace with how things are. Well, minus the pain in his back.  
Through his eyelashes he peeks at the angel, and the look has his heart skip at least a couple of beats. The words burst out before he thinks about them: “I'll always want this.”  
When the words seem to get to the angel he leans down and tugs Dean up far enough so that their lips meet, and neither of them have to say anything for their feelings to be clear for each other. After many sweet and affectionate kisses their mouths become more demanding, gently tugging on the others lips and short touches of their tongues. Dean breaks away and just looks at his angel, his lips shining with traces of spit and breath labored. The hunter runs his lips over Cas' thighs again, returning to where he left of previously.  
Cas' penis is soft, and it feels smooth when he runs his hand over it. Finding the angel's eyes he licks the palm of his hand and reaches for it, watching how Cas' cheeks turn red at the gentle strokes. His free hand touches all the sensible spots on the angel's thighs, and as Cas' dick grows harder the angel starts to make delicious quiet noises. Humming in appreciation he varies how tight he grips Cas, until the suppressed groans from above his head sound just like he wants them to. Dean slicks his hand again and runs his fingers over the tip of Cas' arousal, collecting the precome before he quickens his pace. Cas grabs the fabric of their bedsheets, holding eye contact as Dean smiles at him. His hand leaves Cas' thigh in favor of fondling the angel's balls, and the first true moan erupts from Cas' mouth. The angel lets his head drop backwards, but Dean asks, his voice gravelly: “No, Cas, please look at me. I want you to see.”  
With a growl Cas does as he is told, uttering a repressed: “Dean...”  
“There you go...” praises Dean and tugs Cas' dick quicker, adding a twist to his wrist that has Cas fighting to keep his eyes on Dean.  
“I want you, Cas...” mumbles Dean, staring into his favorite deep blue eyes. The angel's lips are parted and his breath labored. Dean bites his lip staring up at the angel, aroused by the look of Cas' coming undone.  
Cas begins to squirm under his hands and Dean asks: “Tell me when you're close, okay?”  
Pulling at the bedsheets the angel nods, and when Dean tightens his grip again Cas groans loudly.  
The angel's dick throbs in Dean's hand and with the other one he gabs Cas', still staring up at his angel he growls: “Come for me, Cas...”  
“Dean!” Cas is moaning before he mutters: “Close...”  
“Awesome, Cas...” whispers Dean, amazed by the lack of words from his usually well spoken angel. Quickly he leans down and pulls at Cas' hand in his, guiding it to the back of his head. He hollows his cheeks and takes the swollen dick in his mouth, the deep growl from above him spurring him on. He can hear broken syllables that resemble his name, and his heart jumps. After three or four quick bobs with his head Cas' grip in his hair tightens, pushing his head down and holding him in place. Dean relaxes as best as he can, but even in his pleasure Cas doesn't push too far. With another cry of Dean's name Cas' dick is pulsing, and the bitter-salty liquid pools in the back of his mouth. Even though Cas has let go of his head, Dean stays in his position and licks Cas' dick until no more come oozes out.  
Dean glances up and meets Cas' glassy eyes, and with a smile he demonstratively licks his lips and swallows. With one last stroke over Cas' thighs he moves up, his intention to sit back on the chair. But Cas catches him mid movement, and the superhuman strength nearly pushes all the air out of his lungs when he finds himself flying backwards onto the mattress. A hand catches him before his back lands and a pillow is shoved below his neck, keeping his shoulders from touching the mattress. He huffs and gasps, not able to understand how Cas had moved him here, but it doesn't trouble him enough to get distracted from the angel towering above him. Their lips clash together, hot and urgent. Dean grips the shoulders of the angel above him, and he shamelessly moans into Cas' mouth when he feels a warm hand pull his swollen dick out of his clothes.  
“Cas...” he mutters and pulls back, his conscience nagging at his thoughts, “You don't need to...”  
A big hand suddenly covers his mouth and the angel shushes him. Dean sharply breathes in through his nose and his eyes widen, and the sly grin on Cas' face tells him that the angel has felt his dick twitch at the sensation as well. Somewhere in his head a quiet voice scolds him for being so close already, but at the moment he couldn't care less. Dean's moan is muffled by the hand on his face and Cas quickens his pace. Their eyes stay fixated on each other, the blush on Cas' cheeks still visible from his own orgasm mere seconds earlier.  
“I know you're close, Dean,” whispers Cas' in his low, hoarse voice that has Dean's blood boil, “just let go for me...” The hunter moans again, his dick twitches and his fingers dig into Cas' shoulders. The words leaving his mouth get stifled by the fingers resting on his face, and he stops speaking when he realizes none of it reaches Cas. His head is occupied with thoughts of “Cas” and “Fuck” and “He's got me,” and when the angel's breath ghosts against his ear he lets his guards down, sucking in air through his nose as he feels for the growing heat in his groin. Cas grips him just slightly tighter and it feels perfect, the right balance of pressure and friction. He presses his hips upwards to the angel, and when Cas mutters into his ear: “There you go, Dean...” it tips him over the edge. He arches his back from the mattress when he comes, groaning into the big hand covering his mouth. Cas strokes him through his orgasm and mumbles things into his ear Dean isn't able to actually process at the moment, but the low voice goes straight to his groin.  
Eventually he slumps back into the mattress, breathing heavily through his nose. Cas smiles and lifts his hand, allowing Dean to get more air into his lungs through his mouth. Dean's gaze is fixed on Cas' hand when the angel pulls a finger through the mess on his shirt and licks it.  
“Fuck, Cas...” he pants and Cas smiles when he falls down next to Dean.  
The angel's voice is as sturdy as ever when he states: “I initially planned on using my mouth, too, but you appeared to be entranced by my hand covering your mouth.”  
Dean feels how he turns a couple of shades darker and mumbles something under his breath, so Cas looks over to him and asks: “Am I wrong? Should I not have done that?”  
“That's not it,” mutters Dean and turns away, “just don't say it like that.”  
“Why?” Questions Cas, and of course it just sounds like he honestly doesn't have a clue. Dean sighs.  
“It's not exactly manly and... we haven't talked about stuff and...”  
The angel places his hand under Dean's chin and forces him to look at Cas.  
“You are ashamed,” observes Cas, and it's not even a question. Dean still mumbles: “Yeah.”  
“You don't have to be ashamed with me,” the angel pauses, but continues when Dean doesn't look convinced enough, “I am the last being that is going to judge you about how manly you are.”  
Dean wonders how much more blood can pool in his cheeks, and he doesn't know what to answer. Thankfully, Cas doesn't wait for him to do so and just gently kisses his nose. Dean chuckles and pulls his angel closer.  
“Anyway,” mumbles Dean, “I hope I got my point across.” Big blue eyes meet his and he kisses Cas' forehead before he continues: “I'm not changing my mind,” another kiss, “I don't hate this,” one more, “and I trust you.” This time his lips meet Cas' and he is interrupted for a while. When they break apart Dean cups the angel's cheek and whispers:  
“I trust you to get them out, Cas.”  
Slowly, Cas nods.

///

Dean trusts Cas with his life. But he has to admit the darkness surrounding them after their landing has him worry.  
“Where are we?” He asks, carefully holding his arms out in front of him.  
“Mayo Clinic,” comes Cas' voice from somewhere to his left before lights flicker, “Minnesota.”  
The hunter has to blink when the light from the ceiling reflects from various very shiny surfaces. Floor and walls around them are bright white, the tiles basically sparkling because they are cleaned spotlessly. The first thing to notice is the metal table in the middle of the room, lined with some black (probably fake) leather padding. From above two very big surgical lights hang down, like a pair of big, omniscient eyes. Against the walls stand countless different machines that make Dean feel intimidated by all the buttons and screens. Dean still hasn't found his voice when Cas is already rummaging through some cupboards to their left.  
The hunter had pictured himself sitting on a chair in the bunker leaning forward so his angelic doctor could quickly cut twice and just pluck the wings out of his skin. His new surroundings make his stomach plumage and a lump threatens to close off his throat. To his side metal clattering is audible as Cas collects different items in a bowl. Still, Dean's feet are glued to the floor and he hasn't moved an inch since their arrival.  
The first time the short word leaves his mouth it is too quiet for Cas to hear. But once his silence is broken, the word doesn't seem to stop escaping him over and over again: “No... No!”  
The hunter is backing away until he is stopped by the door, and he flinches at the pain between his shoulder blades.  
“This is crazy,” he utters while his hand searches for the door knob, “We're not doing this, this is madness.”  
“Dean,” Cas' voice is calm and the angel has stopped his work in favor of eyeing the hunter, but the latter ignores him.  
“Shit, why would you bring me here? This isn't...” The hunter rattles on the door, but it doesn't open. His voice is loud and his eyes are narrowed when he demands to know: “Why is the door locked, Cas!?”  
“Dean,” the angel starts again, but the hunter either doesn't hear him or chooses to ignore.  
“Why would you bring me into a freaking locked operation room?!”  
Dean flinches when a surprisingly huge looking angel appears in front of him, arms to either side of his head against the door. The hunter freezes in his motion, staring at the face mere inches away from his own.  
“Dean Winchester,” Castiel's voice rumbles, but his face is still relaxed, “do you think I would ever mean to harm you?”  
After taking two breaths Dean replies: “No.”  
“Do you think I would bring you here with bad intentions?”  
Some tension leaves the hunter's shoulders when he repeats: “No.” A hand lays gently on his shoulder when Cas asks:  
“Do you trust me?”  
This time, Dean's voice is quiet and his cheeks redden when he answers: “Of course.” He looks away from Cas, now ashamed of his behavior. Something about the surgery room had just gotten to him, and he dislikes hospitals in general.  
“Good,” continues Cas, “because if you have me extract your wings, I will make sure to do it in the best conditions available. That's why I brought you to a well renowned clinic. And since it is currently night, the surgery rooms are closed until tomorrow.”  
Dean's shoulders slump and he takes a deep breath, taking in the warmth from the body around him. He mumbles: “Sorry for freaking out. Don't know what happened.”  
“It's okay,” replies the angel and his fingers stroke the stubble on Dean's cheek before he leans back and away from Dean's immediate personal space. “Mind laying down or do you need some more time?”  
The corners of his mouth turn into a shaky grin as he asks: “Maybe a kiss before I oblige?”  
A sparkle ignites in Cas' eyes and they kiss, and when they part they are both slightly out of breath. The angel walks back to his things by the cupboards and Dean steps closer to the table in the middle of the room. The two big lights aren't on yet, and the hunter is thankful. Before he can overthink it he pulls his shirt (the one he had slept in, neither of them had changed) over his head and drops it on the floor. He guesses it is probably cleaner that the shelves in his rooms ever are. Probing he pushes his thumb into the material of the cushion and sighs. It's not very soft, but that's probably not the point. Feeling exposed he climbs up and lays on his stomach, his head propped up on his arms.  
“I don't like this,” he complains, just because he prefers Cas' voice to the creepy silence in the sterile room.  
“Me neither,” agrees the angel and the noises get closer. It sounds like Cas is rolling some kind of cart towards Dean, but the latter decides he doesn't really want to look at the tools Cas' has picked up.  
“Sorry,” mumbles the hunter, quiet enough that he's uncertain if Cas had actually heard him. But some seconds later the angel speaks up, his voice calm:  
“Don't be. This will be as good as it'll get. I'll try my best.”  
“I know you will,” stresses Dean, and he tries to put as much comfort for the angel into his words as possible, “just get the two things out, please.”  
Dean thinks he hears Cas mumble “let's hope it's only two,” but for the sake of his sanity he tells himself he misunderstood. He doesn't ask to clarify.  
For a while the only thing audible is whatever Cas is doing, some clattering, paper ripping, a cap popping, a fluid splashing onto something metal. With nothing else to focus on Dean's heartbeat elevates, but he promises himself to stay calm this time. He knows Cas is uncomfortable with the situation and he doesn't want to make it worse.  
The feeling of something wet and cold against the sensible spot on his left shoulder catches him by surprise, and he yelps before he can stop it.  
“I am sorry,” Cas apologizes immediately, “it's only disinfectant.”  
“It's okay,” responds Dean, but his voice sounds less sturdy than he would like it to sound, “just... you know, warn me next time.”  
“Okay. I will do that.” The cold, wet something comes back into contact with his skin, and with quick precision the angel rubs both spots clean. The feeling disappears, and this time the angel voices his intention: “I will give you some local anesthetic with a syringe, don't be alarmed.”  
“Oh nonsense, don't bother with that. I've had worse things done to me while conscious.” Dean claims, and not even he is certain why. Cas sounds like he grits his teeth as he speaks:  
“Dean, I will not discuss your tendency to torture yourself when I am the one to guide the blade.” The hunter doesn't know how to respond to that, so he just doesn't.  
The feeling of the anesthetic is unpleasant, but Dean has to admit it is probably better than feeling the actual cuts through his skin. The last time he looked, the wings appeared to be covered by a fairly thin layer of skin, but how would he know? His heart races when Cas announces:  
“I will start now, Dean. Tell me if... Let me know in case...”  
The angel stumbles, uncertain how to finish his sentence. Dean guesses and just assures him: “I will.”  
Following that the two of them don't speak. Cas is too concentrated on whatever sharp object he probably has in his hand and Dean focuses on breathing and not flinching away. Since the anesthetic is working, he only feels some tugging and pulling, but the lone thought of what is happening at the moment has him urging to take to his heels. Something is slowly running down his left side, and since it is warm and no longer a cold liquid, Dean assumes it has to be blood. But before he can think about that too much he gasps at a strange sensation, and Cas doesn't have to tell him that he has reached into the cut and for his wing. Dean can feel how the angel's finger gently grip the bone (that he has not been aware of before) and carefully move it, and Dean whimpers. Cas immediately stills, but Dean is the first to speak:  
“'m okay.”  
Without answering, maybe to focused on what he's doing, Cas continues to tug the wing from under the numb skin on Dean's back. Dean might be mistaken, but he could swear the angel's breath is just as irregular as his. When Cas finally manages to maneuver the wing out, they both audibly gasp. Dean does because it feels like a dislocated shoulder is finally popped back into place. And Cas explains himself before the hunter can ask, his voice quiet and astonished:  
“It is incredible.”  
The hunter huffs, mumbling: “Says the guy with wings as wide as the room.” The newly discovered limb to his body feels strange, stiff and squeezed. It is only natural for him to have the urge to stretch and shake it, but he hasn't thought about the fact that the wing would actually do that. Cas yelps and jumps back when Dean's wing moves, stretching out and shaking a mix of fluids in different directions. Dean is as much taken aback as Cas is:  
“Sorry Cas! Didn't mean to do that, sorry!”  
He turns around to look at Cas, the angel's eyes wide and his jaw dropped. But Dean gets distracted by the glimpse of feathers at the edge of his vision, and it renders him speechless. He twists his head and upper body to have a look.  
Dean had never been able to really see Cas' wings, only a shadowy, blurry image of them. But his own wings are as clearly visible as all of his other limbs are. They are small, tiny in comparison to Cas'. They only reach down to his lower back, but even that is at least three times the size the lump had been. The feathers are a deep blue, almost black. They are sticking into different directions, clumped together with blood and other fluids from the wound.  
The angel finds his voice again: “They are truly gorgeous.”  
Dean says the first thing that comes to his mind: “I look like a shredded bird!”  
His comment seems to free Cas' from the position he had frozen in, and the angel chuckles.  
“I can help you with that,” he promises and for some reason Dean blushes. The angel continues: “I'll fix you up and do the other side, okay?” The hunter only nods, trying to process everything that is going on at the same time. The second wing is out faster, apparently Cas has learned from the first one. In return, Dean doesn't startle him by suddenly flinging the new limb around unannounced. Quickly everything is dealt with, and Dean sits up with two fairly small, wet and dirty wings at his back.  
“I can clean them for you,” promises Cas and his face is lit up with excitement. Dean smiles back, but at the view of bloody pads and used syringes on the table on wheels he insists: “At home, okay?”  
Cas nods with a big smile as he pulls the hunter down from the table. Quietly the angel whispers in his ear: “Maybe one day, you will be able to see mine, too.” A shudder runs through Dean, and if he would believe in a god who is interested in their fate, he would pray to him to make that become reality.


	10. 'Too curious'

Cas' grip on his wrist is gentle.  
“I think we should get you into some water. Do you think you would be okay with taking a bath in my presence?”  
Dean can feel the grin spreading over his face. Only his angel could be innocent enough to ask a question like that. The hunter turns to him and runs his lips over the stubble on Cas' face, from his jaw to his ear. Nipping on the angel's earlobe he whispers: “That might be very distracting from actually getting myself cleaned up, but I'm not going to complain.”  
Cas hums quietly and places a short kiss to Dean's forehead before he tugs the man towards the nearest bathroom. His hand on the small of Dean's back guides the hunter to the bathtub. Cas starts the water and rolls up his sleeves before Dean reaches out for him:  
“No, come on, you can't stay clothed like that!”  
“Why?” The usual sound of honest curiosity catches Dean off guard and the hunter giggles.  
“Maybe I'd like to take the opportunity to get you out of your clothes, since I'm going to be naked.” Blushing he adds: “I like looking at you, you know? You're quite easy on the eyes.”  
The smile on the angel's face brightens and a shimmer of something Dean can't interpret flashes across Cas' eyes. “If that's so,” he mumbles and rolls the sleeves back down, only to pull the top of his sleepwear over his head. Yeah, Dean was right – he definitely likes looking at the angel. There is a rush of excitement running through his body when he watches Cas' muscles flex as he gets rid off his shirt, and the view of bare skin has him urging to reach out. Seeing no reason to restrain himself he closes the small gap between them and pulls Cas into a soft kiss, and the angel hums his appreciation. Dean's fingers explore the skin on Cas' back, follow the muscles from the seam of his trousers upwards. The angel's fingers slide up and down his side, thumbs lazily drawing circles on his skin. Dean guesses the angel is avoiding his sticky wings, but since he doesn't complain Dean is in no rush to end his hands' journey. They wander further up, and Dean applies gentle pressure along the muscles. He can feel Cas relax under his hands and he smiles into their kiss, always amazed that he is able to coax such reactions from the angel. They break the kiss, but Dean refuses to open his eyes – partly because he is too tired to do so, partly because he can feel everything he could want to see right now. The whispered “don't stop” from Cas has his heart skip a beat, and only too happy to oblige Dean massages up to the shoulder blades. The angel leans into him, hot skin coming into contact with his chest, and Cas' face comes to rest on his shoulder. Dean smiles and places his cheek to Cas' when he gets distracted by the skin under his hands. His hands' path gets obstructed by a bony structure in a place where he wouldn't expect it, and still to deep into the feeling of the situation he tries to feel it out. Only when Cas gasps audibly Dean realizes what it is, and the second the word “wings” crosses his mind the sensation is gone and his hands are back on Cas' shoulders.  
Confused and with an elevated heartbeat he opens his eyes, to find Cas staring at him with huge eyes and his lips parted. There is something to the angel's expression that Dean can't quite grasp, something between excitement and denial. For a while neither of them speak, their minds trying to work out what happened. Dean's fingers still rest on Cas' back and the hunter lets them wander in small circles, absently searching for the sensation again. The seconds tick by, the two of them just staring at each other in awe, no words to express the situation. Dean shivers when the weight of what just happened hits him – he had just touched the base of Cas' wings.  
A part of what makes the angel just that – more than human, more than natural, celestial. He had been able to perceive part of a different plane of reality, to touch that private and intimate limb of his angel, that no human has ever touched. And Cas hadn't pulled back or looked offended, but just amazed and... happy.  
Dean closes his eyes and hides his red face in the crook of Cas' neck, his mouth whispering senseless words into the soft skin. He can feel gentle fingers brushing through his hair before the angel urges him towards the bathtub.  
“Get in?”  
It's not a demand, Cas is giving Dean the option to say he needs some more time. But something tells Dean that Cas might be just as stunned by the situation as he is and looking for something to do. So in a efficient and quick motion he drops his pajama pants and climbs into the water. The sensation of the warm water on his newly discovered limbs throws him of, and he nearly wants to get out of the water again. But after a moment he notices that the sensation is not unpleasant, just one he isn't used to. It feels like running the small hairs on his arms through honey, slightly tugging, slightly clinging to the surface of the wings. But the warmth also feels good, and the water breaks some of the sticky feathers apart.  
When he is sitting he looks up at Cas, and the pleased smile on his face tells Dean that the angel had been watching his process of drowning part of his wings. The angel kneels down on the fuzzy carpet in front of the tub and questions: “Can you turn your back towards me?”  
Dean wiggles around until he has found a position that isn't totally uncomfortable and still gets his wings mostly into Cas' reach. When the angel actually touches them – just his fingertips on some of the feathers – Dean still jumps, surprised by the existence of new limbs again.  
“Sorry,” mumbles the other man and soothingly rubs Dean's arm instead.  
“Don't be. Just not used to feel anything there, you know?”  
The hunter can hear the faint smile when the angel tells him that he understands. The second time Cas gives him a warning of “don't be alarmed” before he reaches out, and like that Dean can actually focus on the feeling. The angel cautiously strokes the long feathers on the lower part of the wings that are already under water. Slowly clumps of dried blood and other fluids dissolve into the water, and Cas straightens stray feathers back into their place, relieving Dean of a feeling of discomfort he hadn't even noticed before. Only a couple of feathers in Dean closes his eyes and rests his chin against his chest, quietly losing himself in the comfort of the situation. It comes to him that that has to be how little girls feel when someone combs and braids their hair, except his hair also can feel the gentle touches.  
When Dean doesn't interrupt or comment on Cas' care for the wings, the angel gets more comfortable and more certain in his motions. Dean hums at the sensation of the fingers massaging the individual feathers and every now and then the gentle brushing against his back. Cas takes extra care to clean each single one and move it to where it belongs. After a while Dean feels extremely sleepy, comforted into a calming state of relaxation.  
“Are you okay?” Cas asks as he moves further upwards, collecting water in his hands and letting it flow down Dean's new limbs.  
“'solutely,” slurs Dean, a lazy smile forming on his lips. “Does is always feel this amazing or are you just that good at it?”  
The hunter isn't certain if the compliment flew over Cas' head as the angel answers steadily: “This is usually an act associated with positive feelings, as it is most often shared with angels who really care about one another.”  
“You mean 'ts like a peer thing? That's nice.”  
The angel hesitates before he corrects: “Maybe your closest friends. Can you relax your wings so they reach into the water? It would be easier if they were submerged in it.”  
Dean thinks about it, trying to will the extensions on his back to do as he wants them to. He is successful in moving them, stretching them out so that a bigger part is below the surface of the bathwater. In his opinion, he did quite well, and he is nearly offended when Cas chuckles.  
“Dean,” the angel croons, and it is one of his gifts to sound absolutely not judgmental, “you don't need to tense like that. Here,” fingertips come into contact with Dean's back, following a string of muscles to the base of the wings. Cas purposefully runs them along the base of his wings before he apparently finds what he is looking for and applies some pressure. “Try to relax these muscles.”  
Dean can't help himself and muffles the moan against his upper arm as Cas works his magic and the tension eases out of the wings. They slump down, splashing into the water so that they are at least two thirds submerged. The hunter hadn't even realized how exhausting it was to hold the wings, so he relaxes into the angel's touch and steadily hums in appreciation.  
He can hear Cas quietly giggle – yes, giggle – and he mumbles something that resembles “shut up,” but the words are so slurred that they don't even reach his ears. When Cas resumes his task of getting the mess out of the wings Dean straightens his back, trying to give the angel more room to work but also intrigued by their previous conversation.  
“How do you clean your wings?”  
“Hm?” The addressed murmurs, either too indulged in his activity or trying to buy time. Dean repeats the question and aims for a curious, but gentle tone, realizing they rarely talk about Cas' non humanly features.  
“Begrudgingly,” replies Cas, and Dean can almost see the face the angel must be pulling at the comment. “I try to keep them away from bigger messes. It can be quite challenging to take care of them on your own.”  
“I can imagine,” mumbles Dean and the mental image of himself in a weird yoga position pops up, trying to clean the base of his wing like Cas is currently doing for him.  
“I don't think you can. As a child, I got honey in my wings and had to try to clean it. It was atrocious. I don't want to get into a situation like that on my own.”  
The hunter snickers: “How did you manage to do that? That must have been sticky as hell!”  
“It was,” sighs Cas admittingly, “and I got into a lot of trouble for it.”  
“I want to hear the story!” Dean declares enthusiastically, twisting his neck to catch a glimpse of Cas' expression. The angel has his typical, barely there tilted head and his eyes study Dean in search of something the hunter doesn't get.  
“It is not a very entertaining story,” Cas finally hesitates, “I don't think it would be exciting.” Dean shrugs his shoulders, accidentally splashing Cas with water in the process.  
“You don't have to tell me, but I'm interested.” He throws the angel a quick smile that he hopes looks reassuring. For a moment, Cas quietly continues to stroke Dean's feathers into place.  
“Tell me if I bore you,” asks the angel and Dean mutters under his breath: “Man, I've got to ask you to tell me stories more often.” Cas doesn't react to it, but goes back to tenderly caring for Dean's wings.  
“I was still a small child when it came to that incident. With the fully grown angels I had a reputation of being... let's call it 'too curious'.” Dean chuckles at the words and pulls his legs up to his chest, crossing his arms and resting his head on top as he listens to Cas.  
“That was why they had me under almost constant supervision from slightly older brothers and sisters. The older angels didn't like their obligation of supervising younger angels. And not all of them were too fond of me. Some took their task very dutifully and kept me in line, some were less involved in the task of looking out for me. That day an older brother got assigned to watch me, and he wasn't too concerned with actually doing that.”  
The hunter quietly throws in: “What was his name?”  
Cas hesitates for a moment, almost too short for Dean to notice, before he continues with a faint fondness in his voice: “He was called Amenadiel,” Dean nods, “and that day he took me down with him to earth. It wasn't yet the earth you know, far from this stage of evolution. But it was getting there, and Amenadiel had set his mind on playing with an ancestor of your modern sheep. In his enthusiasm he didn't notice that I hadn't followed him, because I met a bee on the way that had caught my attention. I had never seen one up to that day, and the rhythmic beat of its wings entranced me.” The corners of Dean's mouth pull into a smile, the mental image of a very young Castiel chasing a bee on a prehistoric earth building in his mind. The hunter can hear the admiration in Cas' voice as he describes: “There was something about the little creature that immediately had me fascinated. Their wings were so divergent from my own, small and transparent. I was amazed with their strength, since the bee...” Cas' voice fades, and after a second of silence he mumbles: “Sorry, I am digressing.”  
Dean, who had been indulged in his fantasy of child-angel-Cas, reluctantly lifts his chin from his arms and turns to look at the angel. “Don't apologize,” he protests, absolutely not whining, “I like hearing about little you.”  
“This isn't useful for you.”  
The hunter gets to his knees in the bathtub, only slightly disgraceful, and turns around to face the angel. His wings slip from Cas' hands and fold onto his back on their own accord. Dean is frowning while Cas only looks confused, his head tilted the way that always makes Dean's stomach drop.  
Splashing the Angel with some water Dean insists: “Stories don't always have to have a clear use. I like listening to you. And I like getting to learn more about you. That's a use itself.”  
“Why?”  
Dean sighs and rolls his eyes in pretended annoyance: “Because, in case you didn't notice, I'm interested in you. That includes your stories, stupid.”  
Cas doesn't say anything, but he smiles and reaches out for Dean's wing. The hunter is about to turn back around, but Cas stops him in his movement.  
“I was mostly done with the back of the wings. Stay like that, I'll do the inside.”  
The angel helps Dean rearrange his new limbs in a way that Cas can reach them and it isn't uncomfortable for Dean, since apparently that knowledge isn't all intuitive. Once they have settled, Cas continues his story without Dean having to ask.  
“Well... the bee had me interested, and without thinking too much about it I followed it. The small creature flew to a couple of flowers, and I watched it in concentration, focused on learning about it. I was entranced by it apparent knowledge on what to do, the way it was collecting what it needed from the flowers. Somewhere along the way the bee had rested on my shoulder, and I fell in love with the small animal.”  
Dean mumbles with a grin on his face: “You befriended a bee. 'Course you would.” Cas pauses for a moment, and Dean can't help but notice how he likes this position way better than before. Even though his tiredness is catching up to him, he is intently watching Cas care for his wings. His movements are calm and purposeful, effective and still making Dean feel worshiped. Not that he would admit that out loud. Dean reaches out and runs the palm of his hand along the showing muscles on Cas' arm, and the ladder smiles at him before he returns to his story.  
“I followed the bee all the way into a forest, where it flew back to its hive. It hung up in a tree, a round bees nest close to the base of the tree. Again, I had never seen one before, but I noticed bees flying to and from it. I quickly decided I needed to get closer, have a look at the home of so many small creatures. So I started climbing the tree.”  
The angel hesitates and his gaze looses itself somewhere behind Dean's back. The hunter blinks slowly, but Cas doesn't look distressed. A second later he sharply shakes his head and picks back up where he left: “I had followed it so far that I hadn't noticed how time went by. I only realized my brother had been looking for me when I heard him call my name, and I called back to him to let him know I was okay. Around that time I had finally managed to climb to the level of the bees nest, and I sat on a nearby branch and watched bees come and go out of their nest. Amenadiel came rushing to me, but I was too focused on what I had found to notice how angry he was with me, because I hadn't followed him. While I rambled on about the bees – even though I didn't know what they were called – Amenadiel got even more cross and demanded that I came down.” Cas' voice becomes more quiet, and he pauses when he reaches for Dean's other wing.  
“Instead of obeying like I should have, I told him to come up to where I was sitting and have a look at what I found. Amenadiel huffed, and today I guess I would notice that it wasn't exactly a pleased huff, but... You know, I am not very skilled when it comes to such things. My brother flew up into the three-”  
The angel suddenly interrupts himself and quickly looks at Dean with furrowed brows: “I might have to explain, I was still learning how to properly fly at that time. It comes quiet naturally to most angels, but I... I was struggling more that others. When concentrated, I could fly, but most of the time I chose not to. Amenadiel was older than me, and he had mastered the skill of flying very well. I think he might have had forgotten about my lack of skills.” Dean nods and smiles reassuringly at Cas, because Dean thinks he can see some shame in the other man's eyes – but he isn't too sure of himself.  
“So, I was going on about my discovery, pointing at the nest when Amenadiel landed next to me. He didn't listen, but grabbed my arm and scolded me for disobeying. Without warning he took off, and I honestly think he didn't mean to cause what happened. I lost my balance and flung my arms around, at which Amenadiel let go of me. Or I ripped my arm free of his grip, I can't quite recall.” The angel sighs. “When I flung the arm with which I had pointed at the beehive around, I sadly knocked down the bees nest and it fell to the ground. And shortly after, I followed, since I was taken by surprise and not prepared to catch myself with my wings. Out of pure reflex they did flap around, but it was too uncoordinated to actually achieve anything. I landed, on my back, in the remains of a bees nest, surrounded by a lot of rightfully very angry bees.”  
Cas pauses, focused on one of the larger feathers that is sticking to another one. Dean watches how his eyes narrow when they don't want to come apart at the first try, and the angel dips them back into the water, patiently trying again. When they are finally free, Cas continues:  
“My wings were sticky with honey from where I had landed. Amenadiel and I both got into trouble...” Cas' voice fades and he lowers his head, “My father was very displeased. My brother was punished by having to help me clean my wings, and I...” Dean can see the angel swallowing. “Well, the honey didn't come off very easily. It stuck to my feathers like glue, and in the end I had to walk around like that for quite some time.” Cas takes a deep breath, and Dean soothingly strokes his upper arm. The story had taken a darker turn, but Dean was glad Cas hadn't stopped himself. When the angel speaks again, Cas puts on a smile: “So, in conclusion, I advise you to keep your wings away from honey.” Dean chuckles, assuring him: “Noted, will keep that in mind.”  
Only a few minutes later Cas announces: “So, that's good enough for now. You look like you are going to fall asleep in the bathtub any moment, so I suggest we get you back to bed.” Dean yawns lazily at Cas' words and nods with a grin, and his heart warms when Cas holds out a towel as he climbs out of the tub. The angel wraps it around him and his wings, but when his fingers brush his bare shoulder Dean feels the familiar cold power flow through him. Instantly his body and hair is dry, and he grumpily eyes the angel and mumbles: “What are you, a hair dryer?”  
Cas' mouth pulls into half a grin and he places a short kiss to Dean's cheek. Without acknowledging Dean's comment he asks: “Flying or walking back to the bedroom?”  
The hunter rolls his eyes, but he can't suppress the grin: “I'll go with walking for now, thanks.”  
“As you wish,” remarks Cas and takes his hand, leading Dean back to his bedroom.  
With no hesitation the angel pulls Dean into bed, and the hunter is more than happy to let himself be manhandled under the covers. His one arm is spread out across Cas' belly, and he leans against the angel's upper body. He can feel Cas' finger gently stroking the bone of the wing closest to him, and Dean hums. Before he is able to think twice, he is already asleep.

///

Dean groans as he slowly wakes up, discomfort disturbing his sleep. From somewhere to his side a low voice asks if he's okay. With another groan, this time out of exertion, Dean rolls over onto his stomach.  
“The wings are trapped under my body,” he complains in reply to Cas' question. The hunter tries to shake the wings, but one of them is still tucked under his side. A hand pushes itself below his hip and lifts him up with ease, and a second hand helps the wing onto Dean's back. The ladder replies with a noise somewhere between pleasure and annoyance. He is surprised that Cas is even able to make out his “What time 's it?”  
“Quarter past eleven,” the angel informs him, and Dean sighs.  
“Still tired,” he mumbles into his pillow.  
“So go back to sleep?”  
“Then I won't be tired tonight.”  
The smirk is audible in Cas' voice: “Maybe I don't want you to be tired tonight.”  
That finally coaxes Dean's head out of the pillow: “Is that a promise?”  
“Maybe,” comments Cas and ruffles Dean's messy hair. The hunter ducks away:  
“Dude!” Cas just shrugs his shoulders and gets to his feet, and the book that had rested on his legs drops to the floor. “So, breakfast?”  
As if on command Dean's stomach protests loudly, and with another grumpy noise the hunter rolls out of bed. He stumbles over the towel he had just thrown out of bed mindlessly in the middle of the night. Intend on helping his stomach out Dean quickly slips on a random pair of boxers and jeans. Only when he already has a t-shirt in his hand he hesitates, turning to face Cas. The angel is fully dressed already, from backwards tie to trench coat. Of course he is. Dean holds up the shirt in his hand.  
“How am I supposed to put that on?”  
Cas looks at him, and his eyes narrow in realization of the problem. “Oh,” he comments, “that might get complicated.”  
“How do you put your clothes on?” Questions Dean and gazed behind the angel, but the wings stay hidden from his sight.  
“My wings are currently not materialized on this plane of reality,” explains Cas, before his eyes wander to Dean's wings neatly folded on his back, “but yours are here.”  
Dean huffs: “I've noticed, believe me.” The sarcasm goes straight over Cas' head and the angel tilts his head. The hunter continues before Cas can question his words: “So no shirt for me?”  
Cas shrugs his shoulders, looking as clueless as Dean feels.  
“You can try,” suggests the angel, “but I doubt you will be able to materialize your wings on a plane of reality that you currently can't even perceive.” Cas gestures to his back, and with a sigh Dean drops his shirt on the bed.  
“Well,” he states, “no shirt it is.” A grin spreads on his face when he catches Cas watching his bare upper body. “I think I'm going to enjoy this.”

///

Sam almost stumbles back out of the entrance to the kitchen. One of his hands is laying over both of his eyes as he demands to know: “Are you two doing anything indecent?”  
Cas is first to answer the younger Winchester, who is blindly holding his second arm out in an attempt to find the wall: “No? We wouldn't do...” His voice fades, and a grin spreads on Dean's face.  
“Then why isn't Dean wearing a shirt?” Sam peeks through his fingers, and as he spots Cas sitting at the table fully clothed, he drops his hand with a relieved sigh.  
Dean, his eyebrows now pulled together and mouth pressed into a thin line mumbles as he puts down his plate and sits next to Cas: “I didn't want to cut two giant holes into my favorite shirt.”  
With two seconds delay Sam stops dead in his tracks on his way to the fridge. His jaw dropped he turns around and blatantly stares at Dean's back. Once his tongue is working again, he almost blurs the words together: “Are they out? How did it happen, did they break your skin? Can Cas see them, 'cause to me you look normal. Which sucks, by the way.”  
“Cas got them out. It hurt too bad.”  
“So what are they like? And how do you feel? Can you fly?”  
Dean rolls his eyes, but Cas actually smiles. Dean continues: “I'm good, and no, I can't fly. You try waking up with a new pair of limbs and putting them to use a couple of hours later!”  
“They look gorgeous,” adds Cas, and Sam narrows his eyes. He walks over to the fridge and grabs some left over smoothie from his breakfast hours ago. As he slams the door closed, he points at the two other man: “You know what? I call this unfair. I am really interested, but my ungrateful brother gets blessed with wings. Don't you dare making a joke about being blessed!” Sam looks pointedly at Dean, and the older Winchester pouts as he closes his mouth. The younger brother adds: “I'm glad your okay, though. Meet you in the library later.”  
Cas and Dean mumble their good bye, and once Dean is certain Sam is out of ears reach he leans in to Cas:  
“You know what? I really like that only you can see them.”  
The angel smiles and crosses the small distance between them to kiss his hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, over 50.000 words. I write this story in one single document, and that has now reached 70(!) pages!  
> I can't believe that there are people who have read this whole story so far, and I want to thank you. All those views, kudos and comments, they really make my day.


	11. Let me hear it

The ringing of his phone interrupts Dean's Netflix marathon.  
“Excluded hunter in base motel room” he answers, reluctantly pausing his movie and manoeuvring his feet over the edge of the bed to sit up.  
“It's not my fault you can't wear a shirt like a normal person,” Sam tells him from the other end of the phone. The older Winchester thinks he might hear slight gasping, as if Sam had just been running but was trying not to let Dean know.  
The older brother huffs: “Well, I didn't really have a say in it, either.”  
“You could have stayed home,” argues his younger brother, and by now he sounds like a broken record.  
“Yeah, its not like you told me about a hundred times. What do you want?”  
“Well... We caught one of the vampires. But we lost the other two, so we wanted to give you a heads up. Cas and I don't think you will have to get involved, but just in case.”  
“Oh,” Dean mocks, rolling his eyes even though Sam couldn't see it, “all right, you go catch the loose lions in the city and I'll make sure I don't get arrested for public indecency.”  
“Not wearing a shirt is not exactly forbidden, Dean.”  
Dean sighs. “I'll avoid causing any accidents because of distracted drivers, then.”  
“You're so full of yourself,” comments Sam before he hangs up the phone.  
Dean grins, pleased with himself. He shuffles his wings and folds them neatly onto his back, like his personal blanket, before he continues his movie.

It is only about fifteen minutes later that he scrunches his nose, a stinging smell hanging in the air. He looks around and quickly sniffs himself, but he doesn't appear to be the origin of the smell. It irritates his airways. In combination with the flashing shadow shortly before, that he had told himself he must have imagined, it at least weirds him out. So, just to be safe as he tells himself, he gets up and rummages through his duffel bag until he finds a machete somewhere on the bottom, hidden underneath layers of clothing. With that laying besides his laptop he quickly glances out the window, but the parking lot is empty, if you ignore the couple making out in the back of their car a few parking spots from Dean's window. The hunter giggles at the sight and goes back to watching his movie.  
But even though it had his interest before, it can't keep him occupied now. Somewhere in the back of his mind vampires keep popping back up, and the smell annoys him enough that he starts breathing through his mouth.  
A gas station, Dean finally figures, is what the smell is reminding him of. That smell that fills the car if you even open the door for a split second too long. He hasn't even noticed a gas station anywhere close, he thinks.   
He strolls over to the window, trying to figure out if the smell comes form outside or inside the house. Leaning his head out of the window he sniffs the air, still able to smell gasoline. If he isn't mistaken, it is more intense outside, though. The couple that had actively tried to swallow each other before is now no longer visible over the front seats, but Dean spots a hand and a leg, at least that's what he thinks it is. He chuckles and makes a mental note to take Cas on a trip someday. Staring out the window he looses himself in a daydream of him and the angel, parking on some empty road somewhere off the highway. It is almost as if Cas is right in front of him, since he can see the gaze of confusion on the angel's face pretty clearly. “Why have we stopped,” Cas would ask, his head tilted to one side. “Have we run out of gas?” Dean grins like he would do in the car, wordlessly climbing into the back seat and urging Cas to come with him. The always compliant... well, mostly compliant angel would follow him, not understanding but trusting, and Dean would pull him into a kiss... His hands ruffling the angel's hair, the smell filling his nose that he had inhaled from the trench coat the last couple of days when Cas had lent it to him to hide his wings under...  
The image shatters into a thousand pieces as a loud crack reaches his ears, coming from across the room. Dean whirls around, and with another crunching noise the door to the room splinters. It falls out of its hinges and rumbles to the ground, peeled off white paint and wood dust flying through the air. On pure instinct Dean jumps forward and reaches for the machete on his bed, his eyes fixated on the two dark figures in the door frame, his heart rushing blood though his body in a hurry.  
The one that walks in first is slightly smaller than Dean, but makes up for it with his muscled arms that nearly burst his sleeves. The second one is even smaller, but Dean's attention is drawn away from the figur's build and towards the bloody stains on the front of the shirt. They lead upwards and to his chin – her chin, Dean corrects himself as he takes some steps backwards – which has some leftovers of smeared blood on it.  
“Dammit, Sam,” Dean curses under his breath. He has retreated back towards the window, not yet deciding if he wants to jump outside or just have it in his back so that he at least doesn't have to worry about one site of attack. The two vampires have a quick look around the room, not long enough for Dean to make an attempt at escaping. The hunter can feel his nose tingle, this time not because of the smell but because of all the flying dust. Once they see that the hunter is alone, Dean can see them shortly nodding at each other. The smell of gasoline is now mixed with a metal one, probably from the blood all over the vampires.  
“Can I help you?” Dean tries his luck, not liking the odds of two versus one. The hunter is fighting of a sneeze, trying to watch each and every move of the two monsters. The woman leans forward, her shoulders drawn in in a way that gives her the look of a predatory cat. Dean's muscles tense up, adrenaline pumping through his veins. The sadistic smile spreading across her lips doesn't help Dean's assumption that the two aren't here for a cup of coffee. The man takes several steps to his side, and now the two are far enough apart to attack Dean from two sides, far enough that Dean has difficulties keeping an eye on both of them at the same time. He himself falls into battle position, one foot back, his knees bend, muscles flexing in anticipation.  
“I'm not looking for trouble,” Dean tries to reassure. His voice is less relaxed than he would have liked it to be.  
“We weren't either,” spits the woman. Her voice is surprisingly deep, the sadistic lust swinging in the words isn't able to hide the hurt in them.  
“I gather you met my brother, then,” replies Dean in an effort to keep them talking. He restrains himself from raising the machete in front of him, not wanting to give them any reason to go wild. But he has to admit, he would feel more secure with something between the three of them. Since the two haven't commented on Dean's appearance he at least flares his wings out, and it gives him a slightly better feeling of being in control. His nose is still irritated by the dust particles and Dean impatiently rubs it. The three of them are caught in a weird dance, walking a couple of steps side to side in reaction to one another. The vampires move closer inch by inch, and the hunter glances at the phone laying on the bed. The man is too close for him to have a go at it, and even if he got a hold off it, he wouldn't have the time to actually call someone.  
“We did,” the man eventually responds, “and your celestial pet,” Dean is looking over at him and draws his eyebrows together with anger as the woman lunges forward. Dean reacts, jumping to the side, but he is too slow to get out of the woman's way. She tackles him, and together they fall to the floor with a loud thump. The hunter lands roughly on his side and his wing just barely escapes being trapped between the floor and Dean's upper body, air being forced out of his lungs. He recovers a split second before the vampire does and he swings his machete, not aiming very well and hitting her somewhere in her shoulder area. The female whips around and a sound comes out of her mouth that can only be described as a hiss. Dean's opponent draws a couple of inches back with a hand pressed to her shoulder and the hunter uses the moment to assess his situation.  
He and the woman are on the floor between the wall and one of the beds in the room, the female between him and the window. The smell of gasoline now seems to be permanently edged into his nose. As the female looks at the hit he landed, Dean lashes out again, swinging the machete in the small room between bed and wall, this time aiming for the vampire's head. The woman ducks, barely avoiding getting hit. The machete slices through thin air and Dean nearly looses his balance.  
“Mike,” she calls out, demanding and angry. Dean gets out of the way just in time when the female rushes at him again, her mouth revealing her fangs and her hands bloody from her wound. Dean flinches away from the rotten smell that comes though the air with the female's words and a shudder runs down his back. Unknowingly the hunter moves just to where the other vampire – Mike, apparently – is looking over the edge of the bed, and Dean doesn't realize the male is there before a strong hand grips his hair from above. The human growls in surprise and kicks the woman's hands away as his head gets ripped to the side, revealing his neck against his will. Dean struggles to keep his throat hidden, but has no chance against the muscle packed vampire. Managing to swing his weapon towards the vampire near his throat his opponent lets go of his hair, a nasty growl accompanied by his sharp fingernails digging across Dean's scalp. The hunter hisses at the pain and scurries backwards, further away from the two monsters.  
It is only when the cool feeling of power rushes through his body and the pain in his head fades that he remembers his current state. In his year long experience of fighting he had fallen into his usual routine without even questioning it. He crawls backwards, again kicking the female away from him, hitting her straight in the face with his bare foot. The vampire above him lunges forward again, but Dean can roll out of his reach, even though he has to draw in a sharp breath as he roughly rolls over his wings. As Dean was ducking away from the male the other vampire got to his feet, and judging by the look on her face she is fairly feed up that in this two against one situation they still haven't gotten the upper hand. As she gives her partner a rough shove against the shoulder Dean draws back further and gets up into a crouching position. For a moment he and the two intruders stare at each other, both sides waiting for the next move. Dean's blood is still pumping, and he tries to get a better stand on the carpet below his bare feet.  
“Come at me,” Dean mocks quietly, suddenly bold from the healed scratches on his head. He holds out his machete, bringing it between his body and the two grim monsters. At a nod of the female vampire the two of them jump forward together, and Dean doesn't have a chance to get away quick enough. He manages to hit the female somewhere in the chest, but only seconds later the male has wrangled the machete out of his firm grip. On his back again the hunter is kicking at him, but he is distracted by the feeling of one of his wings being painfully wedged below him and the floor. By the time the female vampire has recovered Dean's hands are pinned to his side, his machete fallen somewhere under the bed, and the male strangles his movements by sitting on him. The hunter can only stare at him with despise, gasping for air and giving as much of a struggle as he can in his current position. His thoughts are racing though his head as he thinks of something, anything that might help him now.  
Without giving Dean the time to come up with something clever to talk himself out of the situation the female grips his hair and brutally rips his head back, and before Dean's growl even reaches his mouth her teeth find the skin on his neck. Pain shoots though the hunter's body as his skin is broken and he tenses, pulling at his wrists in the hold of the other vampire. He can't quite hold in a sound of pain as the teeth are digging deeper in his neck, and his tugs get more desperate. The female makes an approving, dirty sound against his throat and it distracts 'Mike' long enough for Dean to rip one of his hands free. Anger floods though his blood as he grips the woman's hair and pulls, forcing her away from his neck. Going by the new wave of pain rushing through his skin the female manages to rip out some of his flesh, but the second her teeth leave his body the familiar healing-feeling lets the pain fade. Breathing heavily he gets as much distance between his throat and any vampire teeth as possible.  
The male wrestles with the hand in the woman's hair and the female whimpers as Dean pulls out some strands. The woman lets go of Dean's head and together the vampires pin his hand down again. Now that his head is no longer pulled upwards Dean can angrily stare at the two of them again, and like that he catches how the woman's face goes pale when she looks down at the hunter's neck.  
“What?” She stutters, forcing Dean's head away with a flat hand to his face. “Why aren't you bleeding?” The hunter can feel a superior grin spreading across his face, and he gets more confident as the male vampire leans over him to inspect his throat. The two of them are suddenly confused, bickering over how this is possible.  
“Freak!” The male concludes their short exchange and shoves Dean back down as he himself gets to his feet. The female follows him shortly after.  
“Don't wanna drink your dirty blood,” comments the female, in a split second she is out of the window and the male out of the door before Dean is even able to get up. Surprised by the sudden change in scenery Dean looks out after the woman, finding her standing in front of the window. The female has a lit match in her hand and gives him a sly grin with the words: “Time for plan B.”  
Dean doesn't understand until she let's go of the match and it falls to the ground, landing in a wet spot on the pavement. Instantly flames shoot up and fire spreads along the wall before the woman runs away laughing. The hunter jumps back, nearly stumbling over the bed behind himself before he can calm himself again. Alarmed Dean slams the window shut, locking the flames out of his room.  
“Smell of gasoline. Looking for a gas station. Idiot!” He scolds himself as he grabs his machete from the floor and rushes to the door. He hasn't even gone as far as one step before he sees the flames licking on the carpet of the motel room and the remains of the door.  
“Shit!” He exclaims and spins around, looking out for a fire extinguisher or something similar. His eyes fall onto his phone on the bed, and he drops the machete to grab his phone and dial Sam's number. The phone between his cheek and shoulder he hits the flames with a sweater that was hanging on the back of a chair, but the carpet appears to be too god of a food source for the fire for Dean to archive anything. Smoke begins to fill the room and irritates his airways more, and he quickly finds himself having a coughing fit.   
“Fuck!” Dean yells as Sam's answering machine starts talking to him. He throws the device back onto the back and turns on the spot, looking for something to help him with the situation. The noise of fire eating away at the room has him slowly panic. When the glass cracks, probably due to the frame being affected by the heat, Dean jumps back. Out of instinct his wings flare out, and that takes Dean aback just as much as the glass cracking. Only as he folds them onto his back he remembers again that he isn't bound to only human methods. Taking a deep breath he closes his eyes, shutting out the burning smoke, and concentrates on reaching out to his angel:  
'Cas, your nice blood sucking couple was at the motel and lit the whole place up. Please get your lovely ass over he-”  
His prayer gets interrupted by a loud, jarring sound echoing though the motel. At the same time water starts spraying from the ceiling, and bewildered Dean stares up. Before he can think about it for another second the air around him shifts, and his favourite angel appears out of thin air in the middle of the room. The angel's huge, shadowy wings fold back and without hesitation Cas rushes across the room and reaches for Dean. The hunter feels a smile spreading over his face before he breathes in fresh air. He and Cas are standing on the field next to the motel, the angel's hand still tightly gripping his arm.  
Dean huffs, and with the air a wave of relieve rushes through his body. He leans over, his hands on his knees and taking deep breaths. The fresh air cleans his irritated lungs and he coughs again. Drops of water fall from his hair and he chuckles, less out of amusement and more out of relieve. He stands back up and looks at Cas, who is watching him closely and still holding on to the hunter. Not able to interpret the look the angel is giving him Dean smiles again and jokes: “Well, at least we know the sprinkler system is working.”  
Without warning Cas clashes his mouth to Dean's and pulls the hunter tight. For a moment Dean isn't moving, trying to understand the situation before he shrugs his shoulders and leans into the kiss. The angel's hands feel like they're everywhere at once, running over his bare back, tangling themselves into the dark blue feathers of his wings, ruffling the hair on the back of his neck. The nasty smell of gasoline, smoke and blood gets replaced by Cas' scent, one of Dean's favourite. The gentle touches of the angel's hands stand in sharp contrast to the brutal ones from the vampires earlier. Dean wraps his arms around Cas, and just holds on to him, sighing quietly as the angel licks over his lips, demanding for him to part them. Their tongues meet and Dean's blood is boiling as Cas kisses him with determination. He can hear a low, pleased sound from the angel. A hand wanders down to his lower back and over his butt before Cas pulls him flushed against his body, the material of his suit rubbing against the bare skin of his chest.  
Lacking oxygen Dean pulls back, having to place a hand on Cas' chin as the other man refuses to let go. The hunter is panting, cheeks flushed and heart racing. To his pleasure Cas, too, seems to be affected, as his eyes shimmer with hunger and his lips are swollen and red.  
“What was that for?” Dean asks when he has enough air in his lungs to speak again.  
The hunter watches as Cas runs a hand through Dean's still wet hair and the angel's cheeks redden – just barely, but Dean is able to tell. Cas doesn't make a move to answer and glances down at Dean's lips. The hunter runs his thumb over Cas' lower lip, cupping his cheek. In a low voice he tries again:  
“What's going through your head, hm?”  
Cas still doesn't answer, so Dean starts nipping at his jaw and to his ear. When he reaches it he mumbles: “I'm really curious...”  
The angel clears his throat as he quietly responds: “You look... very pleasing like this.”  
A smile spreads across Dean's lips, not teasing but generally flattered. His heart skips a beat at the thought that Cas might genuinely be interested in his body. He leans back to look at Cas as he asks: “How? Do you mean...” he gestures at himself, “half naked? Or maybe,” Dean shakes his head and drops of water fly into different directions, “soaking wet?”  
“Both,” rumbles Cas and goes in for another kiss, but Dean places a finger to his damp lips.  
“That's not all though, is it?” He asks, and the quick flash of lust in Cas' eyes tells Dean that his instinct had been correct.  
“Come on...” he coaxes and leans in to place quick, short kisses to Cas' lips. “Please?”  
The angel makes a noise that is part sigh, part moan. Dean senses that he nearly has cracked Cas, so he presses himself closer to the angel. He is surprised, but very pleased when he feels that the angel had gotten aroused by their exchange.  
“You...” mumbles Cas, his voice gravelly.  
“Hm?” Dean gently nibbles on his earlobe.  
The angel rushes the words: “You prayed something.”  
“Oh...” remarks the hunter and stops his attack on Cas' ear to remember what exactly he had prayed. The angel isn't any longer in the mood to be patient and kisses Dean again, tugging on his lower lip and the hand on Dean's butt pulling him closer. On their own accord Dean's hand wander under Cas' suit, pulling the shirt free from the trousers and moving below the layers of clothing. The angel leans into his touch, and Dean slowly sneaks a hand into Cas' pants. Touching the naked skin feels like lightning rushing though his body and to his groin. When he squeezes and pulls Cas closer the angel almost buckles under his hands and grinds against him. That's when Dean remembers his choice of words.  
Feeling how he himself is getting hard from their make out session he pulls away from Cas to slurr: “Where's Sam?”  
“Busy getting rid of the bodies of two scared vampires we met on our way to the motel.”  
Dean hums approvingly before he adds: “Wanna take us somewhere with a bed, then?”  
The angel looks him in the eyes, his pupils blown wide and something shimmering in them. The next second Dean falls backwards, landing soft on the very familiar mattress of his bed in the bunker. He has to laugh about the fact that Cas has brought them here, but he quickly gets distracted when Cas is pulling his pants down without hesitation. Dean gasps, propping himself up on his elbows as Cas discards them somewhere next to the bed.  
“Dammit, Cas,” he whispers as the still fully clothed man leans over him, hair ruffled from Dean's hands running though it and lips parted. He can't close his mouth as he takes in the sight of the man towering over him.  
“Too fast?” Asks the angel, worry having him tilt his head.  
“Hell no,” moans Dean and pulls Cas in for another long, heated kiss. They are both out of breath when Cas pulls back to take off his jacket that Dean has already shoved down his shoulders. The hunter seizes the opportunity to question: “Was it the choice of words or the praying?”  
The angel glances at him, and for a second Dean thinks Cas might not answer. But his voice drops deep as he responds: “Both.”  
Dean seems to be unable to close his mouth, fire raging though his blood as Cas confesses what had gotten him aroused. His heartbeat quickens and he grips the front of the angel's shirt. While he helps opening the buttons he stares down as he asks: “Want me to talk to you by praying?”  
A sharp breath escapes Cas' mouth and his fingers freeze at the last remaining button. Dean takes over and when Cas takes it off he breathes a quiet “Yes.”  
A shudder runs down Dean's spine, excitement making him pull even more impatiently at Cas' remaining clothes. The thought of doing something to increase the angel's arousal goes straight to his already hard dick. An idea comes to his mind, and he bites his cheek as he tries to assess his situation. Once Cas' clothes lie carelessly on the floor the angel climbs back onto the bed and over Dean's body. Cas tilts his head, runs his thumb over Dean's cheek and comments: “Stop biting yourself.”  
The hunter exhales a shaky breath and the words escape his mouth: “Please tell me to.” Cas narrows his eyes in confusion and Dean squirms under his gaze, blood pooling in his cheeks.  
“Tell you to do what?” Asks Cas, but Dean's self-confidence has shrunken to the size of a pebble. He regrets saying anything, but as he is about to ask Cas to forget what he said understanding flashes across Cas' face.  
“Dean,” the angel grumbles, and the spoken to gasps as Cas slowly presses his hips against Dean's. The hunter drags his hands over Cas' bare upper body, feeling the muscles flex under his finger as the angel moves agonizingly lightly against Dean's hard dick.  
“Yes,” gasps the hunter, one of his hands moving to Cas' ass to urge him to move quicker, but the angel doesn't budge. Dean whines barely audible and presses his hips upwards, looking for better friction.  
The angel leans down and stares into Dean's eyes, the hunter pinned by the look. He swallows and parts his lips as he feels like he doesn't get enough air through his nose, his heart racing.  
“I don't want you to talk,” Cas declares and grinds down harder. Dean moans and nods eagerly, gripping Cas' ass tight. His dick throbs at the words, reacting to the unspoken pleasure they bring Dean. He presses his hips up in time with Cas' movements, their dicks sliding together. It doesn't take long for Cas to pick up speed, and supporting his weight with one hand his other one moves between their bodies to slick their dicks up with the precome slowly oozing out of their erections. Dean closes his eyes, panting and concentrating. He focuses on the feeling of Cas' hot, hard dick rubbing against his own, getting him closer to relieving the pressure that is steadily building.  
'Cas...' Dean wonders if his prayer sounds as slurred as the words feel in his mind, full of lust, 'Please...'  
There is no clear meaning in the words, nothing of significance, but it still appears to spur Cas on. The angel moans somewhere close to his ear, and he grinds down with more determination. Dean's toes curl as he feels Cas' fingers wrap around their cocks, slick with the come that is leaking out of both of them. He thrusts upwards, looking for that sweet feeling bringing him closer.  
He whimpers when Cas grinds down again and it feels so perfect, just the right amount of friction and pressure between his dick and his hand.  
'Like that, please,' he prays, hoping the words reach his angel. As he feels Cas' head drop down on his shoulders Dean's pretty sure Cas has heard him, and his heart jumps at the thought that this might be getting Cas worked up as much as it gets him. He holds back a moan and grips Cas' ass tighter, firm muscle under his hands and the angel growls. Dean feels his body tense, the pressure building more and more and Cas' movements urging him on.  
'Fuck,' he thinks, praying only partly intentional, too lost in the sensation of Cas' hot cock sliding up and down his length.  
“What, Dean?” Growls Cas, his voice deep and sounding equally aroused as Dean feels. The hunter squirms, his head laying back and exposing his neck. The angel takes that as an invitation to suck on the sensitive skin, and Dean doesn't hold back his wish for 'More, please.'  
Dean's eyes snap open as Cas' hand suddenly leaves his throbbing dick, and he finds Cas looking down at him with flushed cheeks and parted lips. Holding eye contact Cas licks the palm of his hand and Dean moans, feeling his cock twitch.  
“Stop moving, okay?” Asks Cas, not demanding but more suggesting, and Dean is quick to nod again. The angel moves back over him, their dicks lined up against Dean's stomach. The hunter fights the instinct to thrust against Cas, even though he groans at the feeling. Cas wraps his hand back around their erections and starts jerking them off, slow, purposeful strokes pressing their dicks tightly against each other.  
'Good, Cas, so good.' His mind can't come up with anything more eloquent anymore, reduced to a squirming mess in Cas' hands. The angel hums appreciatively, picking up speed. Dean wants to thrust up, wants to get more friction from Cas' hands, but he doesn't, laying as still as he can and moans quietly. Cas' eyes are fixated on his, the angel's pupils nearly swallowing all of the blue in his eyes.   
'Fuck Cas, I'm close' Dean warns his angel, the waves of pleasure coming dangerously close to overspilling.  
“Then come for me, Dean,” mumbles Cas and Dean couldn't hold back if he wanted to, arching his back of the mattress as he comes in thick splashes on his stomach and Cas' hand. The angel's name is raging through his brain and he hopes Cas can hear him, can hear what a mess he can make of the hunter. Cas strokes him through his orgasm until Dean collapses back onto the bed, gasping for air and sweat running down his neck. The angel stares at him, pure lust shining in his eyes. He gently lets go of Dean's cock and starts rubbing his own, quicker and rougher than he had Dean's. The hunter draws in a sharp breath at the sight and feels how the heat starts building again in his body. He asks silently:  
'Let me, Cas. Please.'  
Dean gets up as Cas moans: “Let you do what, Dean? Let me hear it, please.”  
The hunter's breath hitches, and in his head he is fighting with his self-conciousness. As he looks at Cas, his hand still wrapped around his hard, leaking dick, the decision is made quickly. Licking his lips he prays:  
'Let me suck you off.' He feels his cheeks turning dark and squirms in his place, but the load moan from the other man is rewarding enough that he would do it again anytime. The angel lets himself fall onto his back, legs spread apart for Dean to move in between. The sight of Cas, aroused and hard because of him, makes Dean's heart skip a beat. Without hesitation he kneels between Cas' legs and kisses up his inner thighs. He can feel the muscles of Cas' leg twitch under the touch of his lips and he smiles, amazed that he actually can make the angel feel good. He licks the base of Cas' dick, more teasing than actually doing anything, but he stops when he hears Cas' growl deeply.  
His mouth closes around Cas' dick, tongue pressed against the sensitive skin. Dean bobs his head at the speed he has learned unravels Cas, and he shoves one hand between the bed and Cas' butt to squeeze it firmly. The angel moans Dean's name and the twitches in his hips tell Dean that he has to actively fight thrusting into Dean's mouth. It isn't long before he feels the angel's cock throb and tastes the salty liquid at the back of his tongue. He glances up at Cas, who has his hands twisted into the bedsheets and looks down to him with glassy eyes. Moving just slightly faster Dean prays:  
'I like sucking you off, Cas.'  
The words have the desired effect as the angel gasps and tips over the edge. He presses up and Dean moves with him, the come pooling in his mouth. It turns him on more than he would admit to out loud, and he gently sucks Cas' dick until it softens. Directly looking at his angel he swallows every last drop before he falls down next to Cas, a smile on his face. Cas returns it, even though he is still breathing loudly.  
For a while, they lay side to side in silence, hands lazily running over each other's skin. Once Cas' breathing has evened out Dean eventually asks:  
“What does it sound like? Prayers, I mean. How do you hear it?”  
Cas' smile widens as he explains: “Just like your voice, but... pure. Not adulterated by air or other noises.”  
Dean nods considering. “Sounds good.”  
“It is,” responds Cas and kisses Dean's cheek. “I had forgotten how beautiful it feels.”  
“You can feel prayers?” The hunter raises his eyebrows and Cas nods.  
“The feeling the person praying experiences accompanies the prayer. At least a trace of it.”  
“Hm,” nods Dean, trying to remember what emotions he might have sent Cas' way in the past. A couple of seconds tick by in comfortable silence. Eventually Cas sighs:  
“Sam is probably wondering where we are.”  
“Probably,” agrees Dean, reluctant to move.  
“We should get dressed.”  
The hunter just grumbles. With a smug smile, the angel leans in and whispers:  
“Wouldn't it be more exciting if you get to undress me again later?”  
Dean sighs and pushes the angel. Cas catches his balance before he rolls out of bed. Dean complains: “Why do you always have to be right?”  
Cas just shrugs, surprisingly smug: “Your fault that you're dating an angel.”


	12. Dark Wings

First Dean thinks his vision is getting worse. Not that he ever had any problems, but he notices how sometimes he sees kind of blurry. It is only when the blurriness gets darker that he recognizes he only had seen that shimmer around Cas. The weird dark and blurry air follows Cas around, and Dean quickly comes to understand what he sees. The contours aren't well defined and „seeing“ might be an exaggeration, but the hunter hopes it will get clearer in the future. He starts to pick up on small things that he safely stores in his mind for the future.

The first special memory is of Cas on a hunt with him and Sammy.  
„Down!“ Orders Cas - and yes, that is exactly how he says it, the powerful voice is clear and not to be messed with. Immediately the brothers duck down behind a shelf full of boxes in the warehouse. A split second later a rain of bullets flies over their head. Dean turns to lean his back against the shelf. At first he is irritated by his vision worsening; he blinks a couple of times and rubs his eyes. It takes him a second to notice the shape of what is blurring his vision. He traces the faint outline and - as expected - his eyes end up resting on Cas' back. One angel wing is spread around Dean, and the hunter even notices a shimmer around Sam. It warms his heart, but he is quickly ripped from that moment by a bullet flying alarmingly low over his head.

 

„I still hate this!“ Dean announces the second time, while Cas is securing the Velcro on his mutilated shirt.  
„I don't,“ Cas deadpans and softly runs his big hand through the feathers of Dean's wing. It is sticking out from the material of his shirt and it has a big strip cut loose that Cas is now putting back in place.  
„For everyone else it looks like I have two holes in my T-shirt!“ Dean won't admit Cas stroking his wing has an instant effect on his bad mood.  
„But I can see your wings.“ Something about Cas' voice tells Dean that the man is smiling. With a deep, exaggerated sigh Dean turns around to face him, but the angel holds him close enough that his hands can bury back into the dark blue feathers.  
„Don't pout. I know this feels pleasurable for you, too.“ Giving in Dean let's his head drop on Cas' shoulder and sneaks his hands to the other man's lower back. The angel simply continues stroking Dean's wings, and yes, dammit, it does feel pretty great. When Dean lifts his head to make a snarky comment it gets stuck in his throat. The dark shimmer is all around him, pulling him in like a second hug.  
Overwhelmed Dean just drops his head back down without a word and gently massages Cas' back. 

 

The third time is less of a pleasant memory, but that doesn't mean it's less important to Dean. The hunter had been in a pretty bad mood all day, and okay, he had let everyone around him know. Not fair, but Dean wasn't exactly known for his coping strategies. At first Cas had been understanding and trying to comfort him, but Dean had pushed him away time and time again. Over the course of the day the angel's attempts to lighten Dean's mood had become fewer and fewer. That hadn't stopped Dean from picking at him and Sam, though.  
He had just said something insensibly generalizing about everything supernatural, even though Sam had shot him a warning look.  
When Cas addresses Dean, his voice is cold: „Dean. I want to talk to you.“  
His heart is fastening as he follows the angel out to the corridor, but Dean isn't able to take back what he said. He notices the now slightly clearer shadow around Cas' back shivering, but he doesn't really think about it. As the angel turns to face him the eyes focusing on his are narrowed. Dean swallows.  
“I understand that you are in a bad mood. But since I am more human than ever, this is affecting me, too. So as long as you aren't willing to let me help you, I will prefer to keep my distance.” Cas' wings flare out and with one beat of them, the angel has vanished.  
It takes Dean half an hour before he picks up his phone and calls Cas, but he only gets the voice mail. Swallowing down his pride he leaves a message:  
“Um... I'm sorry, Cas. That wasn't... I won't let that happen again. I... Well, see you.”  
Cas neither calls back or reappears at the bunker. Sam cautiously avoids Dean, but the older Winchester is no longer lashing out at everybody else. Every movement has his head snap around, but the angel doesn't come back. In the early evening Dean leaves the common areas and hides in his room.  
It's the first night in a while that he has to go to bed alone. He had grown so used to it that he hadn't even realized how much he would miss it. The bed feels too big and the room too cold. By now Dean is feeling guilty and he worries about where Cas might have gone. His three calls to the angel had went unanswered, so with some desperation Dean sits up, closes his eyes and prays.  
'Cas, uh... I get that you're mad. I was being a dick, and I'm really sorry.' His mind goes blank for a second, but he continues after all. 'Please get back here. I... You know. Miss you.'  
Before he can over think what he just told the angel he pulls the covers up to his chin and tries to fall asleep. Sleep doesn't come easy that day, and he has a weird dream where he is being chased by a big, white dove with a blue tie wrapped around its feet. It eventually unsettles him enough that he wakes up.  
After a few seconds of trying to calm his breath he notices a soft glow from the other side of the room. His eyes follow it to find Cas sitting on the chair at the desk, watching him with an unreadable face. Dean is sitting up in no time, stumbling over his words: “Cas! I'm sorry, really, I mean...”  
The angel interrupts him with a calm voice: “I know. It is fine. I apologize for leaving like that.”  
“No, you don't need to,” Dean is quickly refusing, “I behaved like an ass all day.”  
“It is okay,” Cas reassures him. Dean takes a second to look at the angel, but his expression is soft, at least as much as Cas' face can look soft. Dean takes notice of the faint glow around his head, but he is too focused on Cas to think about it.  
“So...” Dean cautiously mumbles, “Can you... Will you come to bed, then?” A trace of a smile tugs on Cas' lips as he nods and makes his way over to the bed.  
“I didn't want to disturb your sleep,” he explains before he crawls under the covers – fully clothed, but Dean doesn't care.  
“I'm giving you permission to wake me in that case. I like having you by my side.” Cas lays down and offers his arm for Dean to rest his head on, but the hunter doesn't want to go back to sleep yet. So instead he leans down to the lightly illuminated face of his angel and places short and affectionate kisses everywhere he can reach. The genuine smile that spreads on Cas' lips warms his heart and a weight, that he hadn't even noticed he had hold onto, finally drops.

 

By the time of the forth special moment Cas' wings have become clear enough for Dean that he can make out some individual feathers. The blurry mass is slowly turning into something that actually looks like it could be part of the world he lives in. He still hasn't told anyone about how well he can see them now – everyone is still too fascinated by his own wings growing. They are now reaching down his back and over his butt, but if he compares his to Cas' wings, they still have a lot of growing to do.  
“Can you please pass me the bell pepper?” Asks Cas and Dean throws him the red one. Cas has picked up on some human things to do, and even though he still doesn't eat, he had started to help Dean prepare dinner. The older brother enjoyed the time they spend together like that. The hunter is currently making a stir-fry and the angel is busy chopping vegetables. Even though Dean has told him countless times that he doesn't have to cut them into identical pieces, Cas' work is always perfectly symmetrical and straight.  
On his way to the spices he passes the angel, and in an instinct he holds out his hand to glide over Cas' lower back. Even though he can see Cas' wings clearer by now, he hadn't been able to touch them again like a couple of weeks back, his hands usually just went right through the shimmering air.  
That day, the air feels more like sand – resistance meeting his fingertips. The sensation comes with a kind of pain that can only be described as pressure. As quick as Dean is to pull his hand back, as violently does Cas jerk his back away from him. The hunter freezes in his place while Cas turns around with wide eyes focused on Dean's. For a moment, neither of them speak up.  
“That was unpleasant,” Cas remarks when the silence grows too big.  
“Yeah,” agrees Dean, “noted: No touching your back for a while.”  
“I didn't even know you were able to do that.” Comments the angel while he picks the knife back up from where he had dropped it.  
“Me neither,” reassures Dean, but shoots a quick glance at the contours of Cas' wings around his back. Day by day he is able to see them better.

 

Today had been the first day that the wings had been clear enough for Dean to notice some feathers sticking out and some missing in whole patches. As long as it had only been a big shadow, he had assumed that Cas' wings looked like his, but by now he realizes that they look... damaged. Remembering how much pain the wings had given him he wonders how Cas might feel. They hadn't even properly spoken about Cas' wings at all.  
Dean takes the opportunity when Sam goes to bed early and leaves Cas and him alone in front of an episode of Sherlock. Since Cas had the case already figured out, they weren't paying to much attention to it, anyway. Dean's arm is placed on the backrest of the couch behind Cas and the angel has his hand in some of Dean's feathers.  
The hunter takes a deep breath.  
“What color are your wings?”  
Cas looks at him and blinks, his expression undecipherable. “Black.”  
“Cool,” Dean comments, genuinely intrigued, “Are all wings dark?”  
The angel shakes his head.  
Cautiously Dean probes: “Want to tell me about it?”  
Again, Cas gives him that weird look. His answer is slow: “If you want me to?”  
“Yeah,” Dean shrugs his shoulders, trying to appear neutral, “but you know, no pressure.”  
The hint of a smile forms on Cas' lips and the angel finally relaxes. He leans against Dean's shoulder as he begins:  
“There is a wide variety of coloration in wings. Gabriel, for example, he had very pretty green wings. They were dark, like the woods at dawn. Michael's on the other hand were shining white, something fairly rare. Many angels took it as a sign of his purity, even though I doubt the color of one's wings has something to say about their personality. After all, Lucifer once had bright red wings.”  
“What do you mean, 'once'?” Dean interrupts, one hand playing with the hair on the back of Cas' neck. Cas hesitates before he responds:  
“Oh... They got... um... charred. You know, when he went to hell...”  
Dean turns to Cas: “Wings get charred in hell?”  
Avoiding his gaze Cas nods.  
“So...” Dean's voice goes weak as his mind puts the pieces together. “Your wings... got charred?”  
Cas sighs and Dean feels like it rips his heart in two. The angel still doesn't look at him as he answers: “Yes. Yes they did.”  
Dean takes the hand that is tangled in his feathers as he asks: “What color were they before?”  
A sad smile tugs on Cas' lips as he states: “Yellow...ish. They looked like honey. I was very fond of the color.”  
After a couple seconds of silence Dean whispers: “I'm sorry.”  
Cas looks confused when he questions: “What for?”  
Now Dean is the one to stare at their conjoined hands and avoid Cas' eyes as he explains: “I guess they got charred when you saved my worthless ass.”

“Dean Winchester,” Cas' voice sounds almost angry and Dean ducks his head, “I would have pulled you out of there even if it meant loosing my wings completely. Don't you ever hold yourself responsible for the color of my wings.”  
“Um...” Dean is only able to stutter. A fire is burning in Cas' eyes as he cups both Dean's cheeks and forces the man to look at him.  
“I liked the color of my wings. But after I raised you, I wore the new color with pride. They told the tale of what had happened. And, I want you to know that, I would do it all over again if I had to.”  
The hunter has to swallow. His heart is burning and taking up at least three times the space it normally does. Cas' eyes pull him in, and he looses himself in the world behind them.  
Cas comes even closer, their faces mere inches apart. The angel's voice is only a whisper as he explains: “When the color of my wings changed, so did I, Dean. It changed me. You changed me. And I don't ever want to go back. I...” Cas pauses and Dean's heart races. He rests his hands on Cas' hips, partly to feel the angel next to him, partly to stabilize himself. The angel puts his head to Dean's forehead and mutters: “This is probably too early for you, and that is okay for me. But Dean... I want to tell you. I need to.” Cas' eyes find his, and Dean can see a form of desperation in them. He nods at his angel reassuringly, even though he feels like he is melting in his hands.  
“Dean, I...” Cas halts and takes a deep breath. “I love you.”  
The world stops spinning, Dean is pretty certain, at that moment. Maybe it had been turning slower for a while now, but Dean only notices now. The center of his universe shifts, and the earth is no longer moving around the sun, no longer spinning around itself. It's Cas, and it has been Cas for a while, the midpoint of his personal existence. Dean is spinning around Cas, because what else would he do?  
His heart feels too small for the feeling it is trying to accommodate, so Dean does the only reasonable thing and gives a part of it away. His mouth fights with the words, but it gets there in the end:  
“Cas... It's... I... love you too.”  
Dean will never forget the look of pure bliss on Cas' face, his eyes widening slightly and his lips pulling into a smile.  
Neither of them speak. The air between them is sweet and heavy, soaked in their feelings. They look at each other, like they have done so many times, but it feels different. Dean thinks he should be panicking, running away or finding another way to ruin this, but Cas is like his anchor. How could he run away from him? Why would he need to?  
Cas is the one who talks first, his voice quiet: “Human emotions can be quite overwhelming.”  
Dean smiles as he responds: “True. But it feels nice.”  
“Absolutely,” agrees the angel and pulls Dean in his arms.  
They stay like that long enough that Dean eventually falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter is rather short. I am in a pretty bad place right now and have to be glad to get anything uploaded at all.  
> Hope it will get better again in the future.


	13. Different Ways

“Dean?”  
Cas' voice is barely audible as it breaks the silence between them. They had quietly sat together on the bench, their eyes fixated on the water. Dean's hand is resting on Cas' leg, just short of being indecent for the public. The angel's hand is intertwined in the feathers on Dean's back, something that Cas' seems to prefer to holding hands. Sam had told them repeatedly how strange Cas' fingers levitating just behind Dean looked, but neither of them cared. The shimmering contours of Cas' wings are draped around the two of them like their personal shield from the outside world. The only thing allowed through are the noises of the water running down the river. It was roughly six month earlier that the two of them had first been here together, before they had took off to Venice and kissed. A smile spreads on Dean's lips as he thinks of that nervous kiss.  
“Cas?” Dean gives back and turns his head to glimpse at his angel. Cas' eyes are still out on the water, following a thin twig being carried away by the current. Only from staring at the angel time and time again over the last years is Dean able to make out the faint tension in Cas' jaw. Immediately trying to comfort his angel he draws slow circles on Cas' thigh with his thumb.  
“I wanted to ask you a question.” Cas' voice tells that his thoughts are somewhere far away.  
“Shoot, buddy,” Dean answers as enthusiastically as he musters. That sounds a lot like a potential emotional question, and he still doesn't like those too much. He always gives his best for Cas, though.  
Strangely human Cas clears his throat before he questions: “Do you... remember the time you talked to me about being intimate?”  
“You mean our talk leaning on the hood of the Impala? Sure, I remember.” To be precise, he remembers two parts especially vividly of that talk. Firstly how he had looked like a tomato because he had been so ashamed of talking to Cas about sex, and secondly how Cas had told him that he though of Dean as on eye level. An equal. Dean sometimes still has trouble believing that last part, but Cas had never given him reason to believe the angel might have changed his mind.  
“You reassured me that being intimate is about making each other feel good. And you mentioned a couple of possibilities.”  
“Yeah?” replies Dean, not certain where the angel is going with his question. Dean has difficulties remembering the exact wording, but he is convinced Cas could probably recite it word for word. The ladder doesn't continue for a moment, what kind of makes Dean nervous. Angels don't often hesitate or have to look for the right way to phrase something. The hunter leans back, deciding to just patiently wait for Cas to sort his thoughts. The angel's fingers curl around a big feather in his wings and follow it down the middle. A pleasant shiver runs down Dean's spine. Once the twig is out of sight, Cas speaks up.  
“We have tried two out of those three possibilities you named.”  
“Oooh.” At first, Dean only let's it sound like he knows, but it quickly dawns on Dean what Cas might be thinking about. He can't remember what three options he had mentioned exactly, but he is pretty certain what they hadn't tried out of the go-to possibilities. When Cas doesn't continue, Dean gently squeezes his leg and cautiously probes: “Are you still going to ask a question?”  
Cas flashes him a quick look and Dean spots a hint of red spreading over the angel's cheeks. He has to suppress a smile over the fact that he can still make Cas blush. “No judging, remember?” Dean reassures Cas. The angel takes a deep breath that could almost be counted as a sigh.  
“I might have done some research,” Cas confesses and avoids Deans eyes. The only thing that Dean regrets about that is that he hadn't gotten to see Cas' face. He can't resist teasing:  
“Naughty!”  
Again Cas quickly looks at him, but Dean grins widely to let Cas now he isn't offended in the slightest. Apparently he is convincing enough, since avoiding his eyes Cas adds:  
“I might have been wondering what you think about... different ways of being intimate.”  
“I'll take that as the question you wanted to ask,” concludes Dean when Cas stares back out onto the water. The angel nods. Dean can feel tingling in his stomach, a rush of excitement shooting though him. That doesn't prevent him from blushing, though, as he asks: “Just to be clear... Are we talking about... you know,” he lowers his voice, not because anyone is around them but because... well, he still doesn't love talking about sex, “penetrating... or other kinds of sexual activities?”  
Cas tilts his head, and of course Dean's blood boils at the sight. The angel states: “I only informed myself about the topic of anal sex.”  
Dean's heart jumps violently and he sucks in a breath before he mutters: “Geez, Cas.” Before Cas can utter the confusion that is written all over his face Dean continues his reply to Cas' question.  
“I...,” he has to swallow, “I am curious, to be honest. But we don't have to do it just because it is... “human protocol”, remember?”  
For the first time since the conversation began Cas really looks at him. A shimmer flashes in his eyes that Dean can't quite interpret.  
“I might be experiencing curiosity, too.” Dean's stomach flips and he hurries to tell Cas:  
“Great. That's, I like that. I'm happy if you want to try new things.” A smile tugs on one of Cas' lips before he turns back to watch the water and asks: “So we will try it?” Cas' fingers are now wandering up and down the bony frame of his wing.  
Again, Dean has to swallow. He finds it hard to ignore the noise of his elevated heartbeat at this point.  
“Yeah,” he nods, “sure, we can do that.”  
“Tonight?” Cas adds as innocent as he always is, but Dean's heart stutters alarmingly. Yes, he is definitely curious and it is not like the thought hadn't had popped into his mind when they were making out, but he hadn't really planned on it until now. He makes some unintelligible noises while trying to figure out something to say. The hand on Cas' leg tenses without his approval to do so.  
Cas notices his mumbling: “Was that inappropriate of me to ask?”  
“No,” Dean croaks before he clears his throat, “just... unexpected.”  
“We don't have to do it tonight.” Cas offers with an honest smile, but Dean doesn't want to tame Cas' enthusiasm. And maybe it's not only that he is selfless, maybe he is too curious himself to wait.  
“Yes. No. I mean,” Cas smiles at him like he is pitying his inability to sort his thoughts, “We can try it. I'm not one to say no to sex.”  
Cas beams, and it warms Dean's heart. The angel strokes the feathers on Dean's back in thought, and the feeling distracts Dean from the topic. Sometimes he gets annoyed that he isn't able to touch Cas' wings, just because he wants to make Cas feel as cared for as Dean does like this. Cas' next question hits him out of the blue again.  
“Should we consider positions beforehand?”  
“Oh.” Dean freezes in his position. When he is unable to say something more eloquent Cas adds: “I thought it might be appropriate to talk about this in advance, but we don't have to.”  
Only when Cas' brows narrow in worry Dean is able to shake his stupor and intelligently mutters while blushing: “No, good point. Sure.”  
“Is there a position you would be more comfortable with?” At this point Dean gets really jealous of Cas' ability to just always stay calm. His own heartbeat is racing and he has to be pretty close to imitating a tomato again. Dean takes a deep breath and tries to actually think about the question. The part in him that is very focused on being manly wants to scream 'no way I am on bottom!' But Dean shuts it out. This is Cas – his Cas. The angel had made it clear time after time that he doesn't care about Dean's manliness at all.  
But would he... would he take it? Dean tries to imagine it, and immediately turns a couple of shades darker. Excitement pulls at his guts, kind of like he is driving a roller coaster. He has to be fair, the thought of Cas... it doesn't scare him. It even... intrigues him. Maybe the thought of being in charge even scares him more. Not that he would admit it.  
“No,” he finally rushes the words, “don't think so.” Secretly he is pretty proud of himself for admitting that. “What about you?”  
Cas remains quiet for a while, just as Dean had, and the hunter wonders if Cas had been as on edge as he is now. Dean's hand lazily wanders up and down Cas' thigh, just so he has something to focus on. Finally, Cas speaks up.  
“I think I do want to try both ways,” he glances at Dean and the hunter gives him a smile he hopes is reassuring, “but if you are truly indifferent to it tonight, I would appreciate to top.” He has definitely researched, Dean realizes as his heart skips a beat at the casual use of the term. Cas rushes the next words “I can't even really experience pain, but somehow the idea makes me nervous, there is just something about it. Not that I don't trust you, that's not... I mean... I...”  
Dean rarely hears Cas scramble and it makes his heart ache. Maybe the angel just always looks calm, but actually isn't at all. So before Cas can mumble any more words Dean interrupts by taking the angel's face in his hands and gently turning Cas' head to face him. Wide eyes meat his, and even though Dean's hands are sweaty and he is nervous, too, his voice is steady when he states: “We'll try it like that today.”  
“Are you certain you are okay with that?” Cas doesn't sound convinced.  
“Certain,” breathes Dean, and to stress his point he presses his lips to Cas' with all the certainty he has in him.

///

“Why are we stopping?”  
Dean giggles to himself and Cas looks even more confused.  
“Your research has to have mentioned lube.” Dean pulls into a parking spot in front of the store.  
“Yes,” states Cas, “but I am an angel. We don't need any lube.” Dean pulls up his eyebrows and Cas explains, lifting his hands in front of him. “I am able to materialize some form of lubricant as well as I would be able to ease any muscles without pain.”  
Dean huffs and shakes his head as he unbuckles his seat belt. “No need to wast...,” he stops himself, but Cas is still rolling his eyes, “use,” he stresses, “your mojo when I can just get us some lube. Wanna join me or wait here?”  
Of course Cas elegantly slides out of the car and accompanies him to the store. It is just medium sized, but Cas is obviously still overwhelmed by the selection. He doesn't question Dean's choice, though, and the hunter is glad he doesn't have to discuss it in the middle of a fairly busy store. To be honest, he just grabbed a random one, because he doesn't want to study the back of bottles of lube right now. Just for show he picks up some shampoo, a toothbrush and a stupid motorcycle magazine to casually throw over the lube at the check out. He also chooses to ignore Cas' tilted head at his other items, and luckily the angel doesn't ask. While the friendly smiling cashier counts his change Dean stuffs the bottle in his pocket and picks up the remaining items with his left hand.  
Only when they are back in the car and the purchases are thrown into the back seat does Dean realize how red his face is; and he takes a deep breath.  
“We don't have to do it,” Cas reminds him.  
“No, that's not it!” Dean is quick to assure him, and it comes to him how his behavior must have looked for Cas. “I'm not ashamed of us.”  
Again, the angel tilts his head. “Then why did you hide?”  
“I... It's just...” Dean stutters, blushing even more. “Not everyone needs to know I plan on sleeping with you. That doesn't mean I don't want to do it.”  
Cas narrows his eyes before he states: “Humans are weird sometimes.”  
Dean's heart warms when he realizes how soft Cas' voice is. Yes, he doesn't quite get that part of Dean's behavior, but he doesn't stress about it. There is no frustration in his words, just fondness of Dean and maybe a small amount of amusement.  
“Angels are weird sometimes,” Dean gives back, but the smile on is face makes it impossible to think he means what he says.

///

Dean has written and deleted his words over and over now. His heart pumps and he has to rub his sweaty palms on his jeans. The only thing to keep him grounded are Cas' fingers slowly working their way through his feathers.  
The hunter bites his cheeks and tries again.  
'Heya Sammy. Cas and I will take a room tonight.'  
“No,” he mutters under his breath and his thumb drums on the delete button.  
'Heya Sammy. We're running late today, so Cas and I will be back tomorrow.'  
The hunter sighs and deletes the sentence again. Cas' hands wander up towards his shoulders, and after some shuffling sounds the angel's fingers press into his tense muscles. Dean hums and closes his eyes for a moment. Telling Cas that he prefers massages to just mojoing the tension away had definitely payed out.  
“What are you fearing, Dean?” Cas asks after a few silent moments. His voice is filled with an honest interest and some wonder.  
Dean huffs without amusement. “He'll never let me hear the end of it if I tell him we'll stay out. He'll know what we're up to. Well, he'll have a general idea at least.”  
Cas' hands are strong enough that Dean has to work on not just tipping over when he relaxes into them.  
“Does it bother you if he knows what we're doing?”  
“No,” Dean sighs again, “he knows that it is part of... part of a relationship. But... There is a difference between guessing something and actually have it confirmed.” Dean pauses. “And I think that is true for a lot more things than just your brother's sex life.”  
“Hm,” Cas adds to the conversation, apparently deciding that this is just another human thing that's not for him to understand. Dean looks at his phone again, and with a final sigh he types:  
'Heya Sammy. Cas and I will stay out. See ya tomorrow, enjoy having the bunker to yourself!'  
Before he can over think it he hits the send button and throws the phone on the pile of clothes laying on the motel room floor. Up to this point it consists out of both their shirts, Deans jacket and Cas' coat.  
“Are you okay?” Cas asks as he moves closer, his arms hugging Dean around his waist until the angel is sitting right behind the hunter, his chin on Dean's shoulder. Goosebumps spread over Dean's skin as excitement in the form of adrenaline pumps though his blood again.  
“Yeah,” he whispers and his hand stroke the arms around his body, “You?”  
“I feel marvelous, thank you for asking,” the angel mumbles in Dean's ear. The ladder can't help but giggle at the choice of words.  
“You have quite talented fingers, you know that?” Dean asks and playfully pushes his shoulders back against the angel. He can almost feel Cas raise his eyebrows as he responds: “Is that so? Would you like to lay down and have me continue your massage?”  
Dean nods, because the way his stomach flips makes him uncertain if his voice is steady enough to speak. Cas' arms untangle from around his waist, but before Dean can lay down Cas holds him to press their lips together.  
They break apart gasping and staring into each others eyes. Dean just savors the way Cas' pupils are blown wide, and the words come naturally to him.  
“Love you, Cas.”  
The angel smiles and gestures him to lay down. As Dean is on his stomach and Cas straddles his hips, hands massaging his back again, the angel fondly replies: “I love you, too.”


	14. Don't rush it

“Spread out your wings, please.”  
Dean does as he is told – without knocking anything down in the process, as he proudly notices – and he feels how Cas' weight settles on his lower back. The hunter crosses his arms underneath his chin and closes his eyes as the angel's finders knead his muscles, and the tension that had been building all day slowly fades. Unintelligible hums and noises speak of his approval while Cas massages his back, firmly stroking just exactly where it feels good. That's another perk of dating somebody who knows the anatomy of a human by heart, Dean guesses.  
After a while Cas' hands slip along the frame of his wings, following the feathers and stroking them affectionately. A smile spreads on Dean's lips, dwelling on fact that Cas is so drawn to his wings. Since they are spread out along the side of Dean's body Cas' hands eventually wander further down, until they massage Dean's lower back. Every now and then a finger dips below the waistline of the hunter's jeans and he hums again, giving Cas his okay to keep going.  
The fingers hook into the seam of his jeans, but Cas doesn't pull them down like Dean had expected. Instead the hunter feels feather light kisses against his back, and a shiver runs down his spine.  
“Cas...” The name slips from his lips, not more than a whisper. But of course the angel hears him and the lips follow his spine upwards, until Cas is nibbling at his earlobe with a questioning sound.  
“Just...” Dean pauses, distracted by a hand slipping under his body and tracing his hip bone. “You,” he finally mutters, turning his head to the side and glancing at his angel.  
Cas frowns, small wrinkles spreading across his forehead.  
“I don't understand,” he states, but that doesn't stop his hands from exploring the bare skin of Dean's upper body. Dean's lips turn upwards, and he lifts his hand into Cas' hair to pull him into a quick kiss. Cas follows his guidance, and his stubble rubbing against Dean's skin makes his guts clench again.  
“This,” Dean explains when they break apart, “You're so... caring. You're awesome. I wouldn't want to do this with anyone but you.”  
“Are you speaking of-”  
“Yes,” Dean interrupts him before the angel will have him turn deep red again, “Yes, Cas. I want this. With you. I... Please.” Dean adds, feeling like the emotions bubbling up in him will spill over any second. Normally he would push them down and lock them deep in his subconscious, but right now he can't remember why he always does that. The way Cas looks at him, the fondness in his eyes, the lust in his kisses, they are like a drug that has him forget who he usually is.  
Cas makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan and sinks into another kiss, his tongue licking over Dean's lips until the hunter parts them invitingly. Still distracted by Cas' mouth Dean feels how the angel lifts his hips up and skilfully removes the hunter's belt. Dean's heart skips a beat and he digs his finger's into Cas' hair, while the angel fumbles with his button and fly. Only when Cas has his fingers hooked into the belt loops does he break the kiss and leave Dean panting and flushed as he slowly drags Dean's jeans down his legs. Dean hears them fall to the ground somewhere right from him before Cas' hands are back on his skin, hot fingers wandering up the insides of his thighs. An embarrassing noise slips from his lips and he feels how he gets aroused, blood rushing to his groin and into his cheeks. The big hands run up to his butt and squeeze it gently through the fabric of his boxers. Dean's skin feels like it is on fire where Cas has touched it, the path his hand's took still burning.  
The hunter attempts to turn around, but before he can move a strong hand pushes his shoulder back into the mattress.  
“Let me,” Cas' rumbles and lightning shoots straight to Dean's arousal.  
“Want to undress you, too,” the hunter mumbles, but doesn't try to get up again.  
“Please,” the angel whispers and Dean can't help but let out a shaky breath, all to willing to do whatever Cas might ask him to.  
“Yeah,” he replies hoarsely, “okay, sure.” Lips ghost over the skin on his back again, giving Dean goosebumps. Long fingers slip beneath the seam of his boxers and toy with the elastic until Cas' lips have followed Dean's spine all the way down to his lower back. The hunter feels itchy, urging to do something, anything to speed Cas on, but he doesn't. He bites his lip as Cas finally pulls the fabric down, and he lifts his hips to help get them off. Dean thinks he should feel ashamed that the boxers catch on his erection, but the way Cas stops and pulls them free with a deep growl just makes his blood boil.  
Cas' hand vanish for a second and Dean hears the sound of a zipper and the movement of fabric before they are back on his skin, tracing his legs upwards once again. His breath hitches when Cas reaches the sensible inside of his thighs and his arousal reacts, pressing even more against his stomach and the mattress.  
A flat hand strokes his back and up to his cheek.  
“Are you all right?” Cas' voice is gentle, but dripping deep with arousal. Still, the angel makes sure Dean is still on board.  
The hunter's voice betrays him as he croaks: “Yeah. Just please... touch me.”  
“I am touching you,” states Cas seriously, stressing his words by rubbing Dean's back.  
Growling Dean urges: “More, please. I want more.”  
The hunter could swear he hears Cas draw in a sharp breath before he asks again: “So... You are still willing to have intercourse?”  
Dean turns around with his upper body, and his hand grabs Cas' wrist as the angel reaches for his shoulder. He fixates Cas' eyes, hoping that the angel can see how he feels in them. His voice isn't as steady as he wants it to be, but it still gets across his point:  
“Yes, Cas. I want this. I want you, dammit. You're so... you, and I want to be as close to you as I can, to...” Dean swallows and tries to keep his voice calm, “to have you in me. I want this, Cas, so how about you?”  
“Yes,” is all Cas breathes before he crashes his lips to Dean's. They kiss until Dean breaks away, gasping for air with spit covered lips. The mattress moves as Cas gets up, and Dean turns to find him going through the pockets of his jeans. The bottle of lube in his hand Cas climbs back onto the bed and strokes Dean's back, probably seeing the moment of panic flashing over Dean's eyes.  
The hunter swallows, determined not to give in to the macho man inside him screaming about how this is degrading. So instead he mumbles: “You'll have to mojo me clean first, please.”  
Cas' mouth twitches into the hunter's favorite smile and as the angel drops the bottle next to Dean's hip a could wave washes through the hunter from the hot hand on his back. He sighs a “thanks,” before he adds: “But no more cheating from now on.”  
“As you wish,” Cas nods before he tells him, “Lift your hips, please.”  
Dean obeys, the voice in his head screaming louder, but Cas only places a pillow under his hips before he urges him down again. Dean is somewhat relieved that this is only slightly exposing, but he is quickly distracted from his thoughts when he feels Cas' hands on his butt. They knead his ass cheeks just like they had massaged his back before, firm and skillful. Dean's hips get pushed into the pillow and the friction against his hardened dick has him moan into his arms. Cas manages to make the transition so smooth that Dean doesn't even notice the angel's fingers getting closer to his hole before one touches him gently. The hunter tenses instinctively, drawing in a sharp breath. The finger vanishes until he breaths calmly again and his muscles relax back into the touch of Cas' strong hands all over his lower back and ass. The angel strokes his ass again, and over time Dean doesn't jump at the sensation but welcomes it, muffling the moan against his pillow. He can feel a drip of precome oozing from his dick and turns red, surprised that he is this aroused already. He did expect it to be a good experience, otherwise there wouldn't be countless couples trying it, but he had definitely not expected to get this turned on this quickly.  
The cap of the lube bottle snapping open rips him from his thoughts and the tension is instantly back, the fear of actually having something pushed into his butt catching him off guard. But the expected cold feeling against his hole doesn't come, instead Cas' warm hand calmly strokes his back.  
“You look gorgeous like this, do you know that?” The angel asks and Dean blushes, hiding his face in the pillow under his arms. “Seeing you like this... affects me.”  
The hunter hums in appreciation, and suddenly he feels a wet finger between his butt cheeks. The fluid is warm, and Dean's heart swells when he realizes 'he has warmed it up'. He doesn't even consider complaining about Cas' cheating.  
The angel just strokes him, giving Dean time to adjust to the feeling again before he gently pushes against the ring of muscles. The index finger moves away again, and Dean notices how he is out of breath already. Cas repeats this two more times before his finger pushes through the ring of muscles. Dean moans and his toes curl at the unfamiliar sensation and Cas immediately stills, allowing Dean to get used to the feeling. The hunter pants but doesn't waist any time to mutter “keep going”, his dick swelling underneath his stomach.  
Cas moans his name before he pushes further, his finger exploring and rubbing against Dean's inner walls.  
“Shit,” Dean mutters at the lightning shooting though his body, “Cas...”  
The angel only makes some unintelligible noises, but Dean's blood boils. Cas pushes deeper, pulling back slightly and pressing in again. Dean concentrates on relaxing the muscles to allow him in, feeling unusually full and not full enough at the same time. The angel pushes his finger against Dean's inner walls, stretching him out in a way Dean can only call “expertly”, and the hunter wonders how much Cas had researched. It doesn't take long before Cas' index finger is all the way in his ass, and Dean has to force himself to stay still instead of rubbing his hips against the pillow underneath him. Cas stills his movement, probably to give Dean more time to adjust, but Dean impatiently moans: “Come on, Cas, please. More...”  
“Don't rush it,” the angel calmly responds, but his voice is thick with lust, “I don't want to hurt you by going too fast.”  
“Don't care,” Dean mutters, pushing his hip back against Cas' hands, “Do it.” When Cas hesitates he adds a moaned “Please...”, and with a sigh Cas pulls out and strokes his hole with two fingers.  
The hunter mutters encouraging words while he grips the sheets, forcing himself to relax his muscles as best as he can.  
Slowly Cas pushes against the muscles before he gets the lube with his other hand. He moves his hand away, accompanied by a “no” from Dean, and coats his fingers in more lube. Dean's guts clench as Cas' fingers touch him again, and this time they slip through the ring of muscles.  
Dean moans, and yes, the stretch burns, but it turns him on. The angel has stilled again, but Dean urges him to move, and Cas' self-discipline seems to crumble when he obeys with a low growl. He pushes the two fingers deeper, overcoming the pressure from Dean's inner walls. The hunter moans again, this time not interested in muffling his arousal, and his hips twitch against the fabric. Cas' free hand grips his hips and stops them from rutting against the pillow, and Dean comments it with a frustrated moan. The angel starts pushing his two fingers apart, stretching Dean out even further. Cas thrusts his fingers into Dean a couple of times, and the hunter is wondering why the heck they didn't try this earlier. He is a withering mess under Cas' fingers and... it's still just the fingers.  
This time Dean doesn't have to tell Cas to hurry up and Cas gently tries three fingers on his own, slowly applying more and more pressure until the fingertips slip past Dean's butt hole. It hurts again and Dean moans, but pushes back against the fingers when Cas stops moving. The hunter feels full, too full, and his dick twitches and oozes precome. If it wasn't for Cas' hand on his hip he would rut against the pillow shamelessly, but like this he can only take what he gets.  
Cas is taking his time to stretch him out, pushing his fingers in and pulling them out again. Dean is moaning and gripping the sheets when suddenly something explodes in his abdomen, a rush of electricity washing through his body.  
“Shit!” He curses loudly and quickly urges Cas: “Do that again!”  
Cas tries to repeat the movement, and some seconds later his fingers brush the spot again that has Dean calling his name.  
“Fuck, Cas,” Dean pants, gasping for air, “Now, Cas, please. Come on, take me.”  
“Don't want to hurt you,” the angel breathes, and Dean violently shakes his head.  
“You won't.”  
“You don't know that.”  
“Dammit Cas, I need you, please!” Dean is very aware how much he has begged already, but at the moment he couldn't care less. To his delight Cas slowly pulls out his fingers and growls, and Dean holds his breath in anticipation as the angel shuffles behind him. Some more fabric hits the floor and the cap of the lube pops again. A deep moan reaches Dean's ears and sets his groin on fire while he pictures Cas lubing his dick up. The mattress dips when Cas knees over him, whispering into his ear: “You sure?”  
“Fuck yes, Cas,” Dean moans, not able to phrase his toughs more elegantly. He reaches behind himself and grabs the first thing his hands come into contact with, pulling Cas' closer by the back of his neck. Cas tenses slightly and calmly asks: “Not there, Dean, please.”  
Dean immediately lets go, uttering apologizes even though Cas tells him he's fine. Dean reaches further down, still desperate to hold onto Cas somehow, until his hands touch feathers. Dean gasps and Cas makes a quiet noise. The hunter grabs the wing under his fingers, and the sensation doesn't vanish, he feels the softness of the feathers and the thin skin over the bony frame.  
“Dean!” Cas calls out, his voice alarmingly shaky.  
“Yeah,” the addresses mutters, tangling his fingers into the feathers, “yeah, fuck Cas, please, now...”  
Cas moans and shifts, one hand pulling Dean's hips further up the pillow before Dean can feel hot, wet skin against his ass. He chokes out a desperate noise and grips Cas' feathers more tightly, and slowly Cas pushes against his hole. Dean sucks in a sharp breath and holds it in, forcing himself to ease his muscles as much as he can. Cas adds pressure but Dean's muscles don't give way.  
The angel starts to pull back but Dean's free hand grips his hip and pulls as he mumbles: “No, no, we're nearly there, keep going, come on...”  
He doesn't stop muttering and drowns out Cas' concern, and with a sigh Cas aligns himself again. Just as Dean thinks they might actually not be able to do it Cas' dick slips past the ring of muscles and they both moan, overwhelmed by the feeling. Dean feels full, stretched to his limit, and Cas is only in with the tip of his dick. Cas doesn't move for a while and this time Dean is glad about it, because even if he feels like he is coming any second, his ass actually does hurt quite a lot. Only when Dean pulls Cas' closer by his ass again does the angel move, slowly thrusting deeper.  
“Dean,” Cas growls lowly and Dean only moans in response, “Dean, this feels incredible.”  
“Yeah,” croaks the hunter, gripping the feathers in his hand more tightly, “it does, yes. Fuck Cas, you're good.”  
Eventually Cas' hips touch Dean's ass, and the angel drops onto his elbows and lays down on Dean, his dick buried in his ass. His hot skin presses to Dean's sweaty back, and they both pant loudly.  
“I'm not going to last long,” confesses Dean, able to feel a wet spot under his stomach.  
“Then don't,” Cas simply states and strokes the feathers of one of Dean's wings.  
“Okay,” Dean mutters, his erection twitching, “okay. Dammit Cas, you're fucking awesome.”  
Cas moans and starts moving again, thrusting into Dean's ass. He stays right over Dean, their upper bodies touching and Cas kissing Dean's neck. Dean clings to the frame of Cas' wing and pushes his other hand between the pillow and his hips, but Cas is quick to grab his wrist.  
“No,” is the only thing the angel growls before he slips his own hand in the same place and wraps his long fingers around Dean's swollen dick. Dean moans into the sheets, overwhelmed by the sensation. Cas pushes as deep as he can like this and strokes Dean's erection in his hand. Dean holds on, but tips over when Cas whispers into his ear: “Come on, Dean...”  
With a long moan of Cas' name Dean comes, tensing all around Cas' cock in his ass. Cas joins in on the moan and with only a couple more thrusts he follows Dean, pushing his dick deep into the hunter. Even though he has just come Dean gets turned on by the feeling of Cas emptying inside of him, liquid filling him. The angel pulls back and out, and Dean feels surprisingly empty, like he is missing a part of him. He holds on to the feathers in his hand tightly to make up for the feeling.  
They just lay there for a while, dreaming too much to move at all. It takes a long time for them to catch their breath, and even longer to sort their thoughts.  
Dean is the first one to find his voice again.  
“That was... that was intense,” he mumbles, his hand stroking the feathers on Cas' back.  
“Yes,” Cas agrees, his hand also in Dean's wing. After a moment of silence Cas asks:  
“Would you consider doing it again?”  
The question finally has Dean moving, and Cas rolls to the side. When Dean can look Cas in the eyes he responds:  
“Why would you ask that?”  
The angel shrugs: “Maybe you don't want to.”  
“What part of right now would make you think that?”  
Cas doesn't look him in the eyes when he mumbles: “I don't know.”  
“Dammit, Cas,” Dean growls and turns so he is towering over the angel. “This was fucking awesome. You are awesome. Of course I want to do it again.”  
A smile spreads over Cas' face and makes Dean's heart swell with joy.  
“Come on,” Dean whispers and kisses Cas' on the cheek, “lets take a shower. And then I have to inspect your wings thoroughly.”  
The smile on Cas' face gets even wider, and he raises his eyebrows: “I could clean us again.”  
Dean shakes his head and pulls at Cas' hand, but the angel doesn't move an inch.  
“I really want to take a shower with you. It's nice.”  
“All right,” Cas gives in and gets to his feet, “Taking a shower it is.” The angel spreads his wings and shakes them, and Dean has suddenly forgotten how to speak. The wings are now absolutely clear for him to see, every feather on its own. They look enormous and powerful.  
Cas giggles.  
“After the shower I'm all yours. Let's go, human.”  
Dean rolls his eyes. “After you, angel.”


	15. I don't want to go

Dean's lungs are starting to burn and he can hear the blood pumping in his ears. He has been holding his breath for way too long, but he can't make a sound.  
They had woken the Sherica they were hunting before they were able to get close enough to kill it, and had only then noticed that it was a mother monster.  
“They are very protecting of their youth,” Dean recites the words from Sam in his head, “and they will sacrifice themselves to save the young.”  
His head feels like it is going to explode. Just like the Sherica might when it notices him so close to her babies.  
The mother had cried out in an eardrum shattering screech when it noticed the hunters, and the three of them had immediately scattered in different directions. Dean didn't see where Cas and Sam had hidden, but he had jumped behind a shelf and rattled at the door behind it. It was his luck that the door was locked and now he was trapped, an angry monster between himself and the only other exit he can make out.  
There is no way he can hold his breath any longer. He clamps his hand over his mouth and tries to breath out as quietly as he can.

“So get this, legends say it can see through walls,” he hears Sam explaining from behind the heavy book in the library, “but that's actually not true.”  
“Well thank god,” Dean had interrupted him and taken a deep sip from his beer.  
“God has nothing to do with that,” Cas was quick to reassure him, and Dean had playfully shoved his shoulder. Not that the angel moved an inch.  
“Anyway,” Sam continued while staring them down with raised eyebrows, “the real reason the Sherica always seems to know where people are is because it has excellent hearing. Apparently it is able to hear breathing.”  
“Great,” Dean had interrupted again, “that makes this mission a whole lot easier.”  
“Sarcasm?” Cas had asked and Dean had given him a thumbs-up while reaching for the beer bottle again.

The shaky gasp for air had been too loud. The furious outcry from the monster had drilled into his brain, and then he heard stomping in his direction.  
Dean grabs his knife tighter, the cold sweat making it harder to hold on to it.  
“I have to kill it before it can explode,” he tells himself, “I have to kill it first.”  
Sam's voice pops up in his head again as the younger brother reads “If it feels threatened, it will rip apart and cause an explosion before anyone can get close to it.”  
“Fuck,” he mumbles, because it is too late now to care about staying unnoticed anyway. And then a quick thought takes him by surprise.  
'Right when I have a reason to live for the first time in a long while.'  
The stomping gets closer and a sharp pain rips though his head as the creature cries again, probably ripping his eardrums. But the only thing his mind is managing to process is the memory of Cas that morning, freaking smiling at him when Dean had woken up in the dirty motel bed. Like Cas had missed him for the few hours he had slept.  
A big, feathered head comes into sight behind the shelf and large eyes widen when they see Dean crouched against the wall.  
“Cas,” Dean prays out loud, staring at the monster while it swells up, “I'm sorry.”  
The shrill noise from the thing's mouth has him black out before it rips into pieces.

///

Sam is running through the hallway as fast as his feet carry him. He doesn't know what to expect at all, but his mind is providing him with terrifying possibilities. Cas had been right next to him, on their way to get a lock pick and open the door Dean had apparently tried to get out of, when the angel had stopped dead in his track.  
When Sam had turned around Cas had already disappeared, an echo of an exclaimed “Dean!” all that was left from his presence a split second earlier. It was drowned out by an deafening outcry from the monster and shortly after an explosion that had the walls shaking. Judging by the loud rumbling afterwards some walls hadn't been able to hold up.  
“The Sherica exploded,” his mind supplies helpfully as his feet hit the ground, “it exploded with Dean in the room.”  
Sam is gasping, his lungs irritated by the dust particles in the air. The closer he gets back to the room with the monster in it, the more obvious the destruction becomes. And Sam gets more and more scared for his brother. Would his angel juices allow him to survive an explosion? And where had Cas disappeared to?  
It isn't hard to find his way back to the room, because the closer he gets, the more damage is done to the building. In some parts he has to climb over parts of the ceiling, the moon shining in through the holes. Eventually he turns a corner and the whole floor has essentially collapsed, leaving nothing but debris. In the middle of the rumble the pieces of concrete are painted with deep red liquid and feathers, guts scattered around.  
Sam tries to orientate himself, tries to remember what the room had looked like. Where would his brother have been? He climbs over the remaining structures, making his way over to the leftovers of the Sherica. Some bricks come loose and he falls, catching himself on the remainders of a wall. He gets back to his feet, unimpressed by the blood and intestines now sticking to the palm of his hand.  
“Dean?!” He yells into the silence, his eyes searching the derbies. “Cas?” He tries afterwards, because where could the angel have gone?  
He steps onto something that crunches under his feet and he lowers his gaze, spotting something that looks like a feathered arm. It is a lot smaller than the one from the mother monster and disappears under a piece of ceiling or wall, who knows.  
Sam takes a step back and mumbles: “At least you are taken care of.”  
It also helps him to finally orientate himself in the former room, and he turns a couple of degrees before he makes his way over the ruins.  
The first thing he sees is a foot, Cas' foot. “Cas!” Sam calls out and trips again in his hurry to get to the angel, landing in more disgusting body parts, but he doesn't care. When he gets closer he spots parts of the trench coat under pieces of concrete, and even though the moon doesn't provide the best lightning he is certain he can see some part of a red flannel.  
“Dean, Cas!” He yells, panic creeping in his voice when he doesn't get an answer or any movement at all. His brain refuses to consider what that could mean. “Guys,” he tries as he finally reaches the spot where rubble from the ceiling and wall piles over two bodies. Mindlessly he starts pulling at the debris, groaning in exhaustion as he moves some of the bigger pieces.  
Cas is laying draped over Dean, who had apparently crouched against the door. Now he has fallen sideways underneath Cas, one of his legs folded beneath himself in an unnatural position, his head hidden by Cas' upper body. The angel's extremities are hanging limply to the side, not even protectively wrapped around Dean's body as Sam would have expected. Cas had obviously tried to shield Dean. His coat is ripped in countless spots and he is covered in guts and blood that Sam prays only belong to the Sherica.  
As soon as he is able to reach the two of them Sam shakes them, repeatedly calling their names. Neither of them move or react in any way, so with his heart racing and cold sweat running down his forehead he reaches for Cas' wrist, then Deans.  
He can't feel anything as he presses his fingers to the point where Cas' artery should run along, but Sam just hopes that that would be normal for an angel. He lets out a shaky sigh when he can feel a slow, but nevertheless steady pulse from his brother. He pulls and shoves the debris out of the way until he can carefully pull Cas away from Dean, heaving the angel onto his back. Their eyes are closed, both of them have several cuts across their bodies, but they don't look like they're bleeding.  
“Dean,” Sam mumbles and pulls his brother into his lap, “Dean, come on. I know you're still there. Come on, buddy.”  
“He will be fine,” a croaky voice informs him from his side. Cas groans and stops his attempt to sit up. “We'll... both be... eventually.” He drops his head back onto the hard ground and blacks out again. Sam makes a noise that is equally as scared as relieved.

///

His back hurts. Like, a lot. How can his back hurt this much? And his body feels unnaturally heavy. Why is he so heavy?  
Dean moans into the pillow under his head. It smells like any dirty, old motel room. A warm hand appears on his head and strokes over his sticky hair.  
“I am so sorry,” a deep, familiar, low rumbling voice says. The shier sound of it has Dean calm down. “I can't heal them for you.” It continues, and only slowly the words sink into his mind. Them? What is his angel talking about? “I have cleaned and... and I have preened them for you. But I can't do anything about the broken bone...” The voice sounds embarrassed and sad. Dean still doesn't understand why. He rolls his shoulders in an attempt to lift the heavy weight of his body, but instead a sharp pain crushes down over him.  
His wings, Dean realizes. His wings are so heavy and painful. They are resting heavily on his back, instead of holding themselves like they normally do. At least his right one is, Dean understands. His left wing feels okay. Not good, but okay.  
“Please say something,” Cas asks quietly, his hand resting in the back of Dean's neck. It takes Dean a moment before he remembers how to speak.  
“Thank you,” he mumbles into the pillow, but he doesn't think it resembles the words at all. Cas still seems to understand:  
“What for?”  
Dean groans again as he tries to get up, the apparently broken wing sending pain through his body at any movement. “Coming for me,” he murmurs as he turns his head to look at his angel. He sucks in a sharp breath when his eyes find Cas. The angel looks beat up, dark shadows under his eyes and pale skin. His vessel doesn't look harmed otherwise, but his wings look shattered. Rubble and pieces of meat seem to be stuck between the feathers, dust has them look a lot lighter than their normal deep black and whole patches of feathers are missing. But the most painful looking are the kinks in the bone structure that have the wings stick into different directions.  
Cas wants to say something, but Dean interrupts him before he has a chance to speak: “What happened to you?!” The angel turns his head and glances at his wings, wincing at the sight. “Was it the explosion?” Dean asks in a horrified manner. Cas avoids his gaze as he nods.  
“Fuck”, curses Dean and wills himself to sit up, ignoring the pain in his wing, “I'm so sorry. Man, that looks nasty.”  
“It will heal over time,” Cas whispers, but his face isn't as calm as his voice is.  
“When?” Dean questions, reaching out for the angel but drawing his hand back, afraid to hurt Cas, “You hadn't even healed from getting your grace ripped out!” His voice sounds more desperate than he would like to admit, but the view of Cas has him hurting himself.  
A small smile plays around Cas' lips and he takes the hunter's hand in his. “Dean, I am millennia old. The few month since that aren't a period of time that my body regenerates in.”  
“Shit,” comments Dean, “shit, I am so sorry.”  
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Cas squeezes his hand.  
“I shouldn't have gotten you into danger, I...”  
Cas interrupts him strictly: “Stop that right now, Dean.”  
The addressed falls silent, his mouth still open. Cas stares at him for a second before he lowers his gaze and quietly says: “I can't bear the thought of loosing you. I would do it again without thinking twice.”  
Dean swallows and feels his cheeks burning bright red. Still, he musters to reply “Thanks, buddy.” Cas smiles and leans in to give him a kiss, but winces at the movement. Dean hurries to move closer and gently places his hand on Cas' cheeks as he pulls him into a sweet, short kiss. The angel's arms wrap around his body, careful to avoid his hurt wing, and for a short eternity they just stay like this, close, safe. Every once in a while Cas moves like he is uncomfortable, and Dean guesses that is exactly how he feels.  
Dean leans back and looks at the angel, wings hanging down like they are sad.  
“Would it help if I... you know,” Dean stumbles over the word, “preen your wings?”  
The angel looks at him with an expression of surprise and hesitates before he shakes his head. He smiles, but Dean knows Cas well enough to see that is it forced.  
“You don't have to.”  
“I know that,” Dean gives back in a huff, “I asked if it would help you feel better.” Cas doesn't meet his eyes as he shrugs and admits: “It probably would.”  
“Then why are you behaving so weird?” Dean didn't mean for it to sound offended, but the flash of guilt on Cas' face has him believe he didn't do a very good job at it.  
“Preening is something intimate,” Cas mumbles.  
“I know that, you told me.” Dean waits, but the angel doesn't reply. “Are you uncomfortable with me touching them?” The hunter hadn't thought about that possibility, and suddenly he feels hurt. Hadn't Cas said that he preened him just a moment ago? What was different now?  
“No!”  
“Then what is it?”  
The angel looks towards the door and stares at the ceiling before he mutters: “Nobody has preened them for me in a long time.”  
“Oh,” is all Dean can add to that. Cas' cheeks have turned red, and it stands in contrast to his pale skin. Carefully Dean questions: “So... you are embarrassed?” The angel nods once.  
“Why?”  
Cas sighs deeply and folds his hands in his lap. Then he explains: “They are in a very bad condition right now. It would be a lot of work.”  
“Do you think you might dislike the preening?” Dean studies Cas' face closely.  
“I might like it a lot,” Cas admits. Before he can utter any more concerns Dean nods firmly and states:  
“All right, then I'll do it. It's decided.” Cas looks at him and his pupils dilate, something flashes across his eyes that Dean still can't name. So he just leans in and gently presses his lips to the angel's.  
Neither of them hear the door unlock. Well, Cas probably does, but he doesn't react. Only when Sam speaks up the two reluctantly lean back.  
“If you two are about to have happy-to-still-be-alive-sex, I will take the car and drive home on my own.”  
The sound of heavy boots falling to the floor has Dean doubt Sam would leave them alone right now, so he quietly sighs and turns to his brother. Sam is covered in dirt and sweat.  
“Heyya Sammy,” Dean greets his younger brother and grins at him. Sam rolls his eyes, but he can't hide his apparent relive over Dean being awake.  
“I've gotten rid of the bodies,” Sam informs the two men, “so after a shower we can hit the road. Glad to see you're up again.” Sam walks by Dean's bed and pats him on the shoulder. The older hunter freezes and sucks in a sharp breath. Sam is quick to draw back and ask:  
“What? Are you okay? I though Cas healed you?”  
The pain Dean had expecting doesn't come, Sam's hand only meets his shoulder. Right, Dean remembers, Sam can't see his wings or touch them. He only feels some discomfort from the movement of his body. He sighs before he explains:  
“Broken wings can't be healed like that.”  
Sam pulls a face in sympathy: “Oh shit, I didn't realize your wings are fractured. How bad is it? Can we do something about it?”  
“I don't think so,” states Dean with a glance at Cas, “but I'm okay, it's just one fracture. Cas' wings are way worse.”  
“Oh!” Sam's eyes light up like they always do when he understands something, “Is that what you were doing, Cas? Did you shield Dean with your wings? I was wondering why you were laying over Dean like that. I-” Sam takes a deep breath and his cheeks turn red, “I mean, I'm sorry to hear that. Let me know if there is something I can do. I'll take a shower now and than we can head back to the bunker.”  
Dean smiles at Cas when Sam is rushing into the bathroom.

///

“So, what would help you wings to feel better?” Dean asks as he stands behind a very naked angel in the bathtub, the big wings nearly touching both sides of the fairly spacious shower. Now that Cas' wings are broken and look like somebody had run over them with a car he is actually afraid to hurt his angel when he touches them.  
Cas has his head down as he explains: “Getting out the debris would be a big help. Also, if you could pick out the feathers that are broken, I would feel better. And bring the ones that are just sticking in the wrong direction back into place, please?”  
Dean nods until he realizes Cas can't see that, so he adds: “Sure.” He takes the showerhead and test the temperature of the water longer than he needs to, still reluctant to actually work on Cas' wings. When Cas shifts on his feet like he is wondering what is taking so long, Dean admits: “I'm scared I'll hurt you.”  
Cas glances over his shoulder and gives Dean a reassuring smile. “Believe me, Dean, any discomfort you might cause me is a small price to pay for my wings to get preened again. I will feel a lot better afterwards.”  
“But your bones are broken,” protests Dean without actually listening to what Cas had said.  
“Again,” Cas repeats patiently, “that is not as painful as it is to have pieces of concrete wedged between the feathers.”  
Cas' words start to sink in when Deans mouth falls open: “Wait, wait. Does that mean... If nobody cared for your wings in a long time... Have you... Were you in pain all the time I have known you?!”  
“Not like right now,” Cas calmly explains, “They aren't always in such a bad condition. But I was in some discomfort now and then.”  
“So nearly always, then,” Dean deadpans with anger bubbling inside him. It's not that he is angry with Cas, but with the fact that the person he cares for so much had been in pain for a long time without him knowing at all. So he declares: “I will do my best tonight to make you feel good.”  
Cas doesn't reply, but Dean can imagine the way his lips are curling into the slightest smile. The hunter takes the showerhead and lets the water run down Cas' left wing. Dust is coloring the water brown, and when he carefully runs his hand over the feathers the dark black begins to shine through the layer of dirt. He tries to avoid harsh movements or pressing against the wing too much, so that he doesn't move Cas' broken wings, but sometimes he hears the angel whimper anyway. Every time it feels like a knife in his stomach and he keeps apologizing, even though Cas tells him not to. When most of the dust is washed away from both of Cas' wings Dean starts to work on the bigger parts of concrete and guts. He begins at the top of his wings, soaking dried blood and pieces of meat until he can pull them away from the feathers. Sometimes a whole bunch of feathers are sticking together like that, and the quiet sigh of relieve from his angel makes up for the sound of pain. Dean picks pieces of concrete and other building material from between the feathers, and he frowns every time he notices that it has done serious damage to Cas' wings. Apart from the fractures in Cas' bones the debris seems to have scratched and hurt the thin skin over the bony structure, and Dean gently washes the dirt out of the wounds as best as he can. The hunter moves further down the wings and crouches behind Cas, working his way through the feathers. “So,” he asks to distract himself from a piece of something that looks a lot like part of an eye, “why can't you heal your wings?”  
It takes a while for Cas to answer, and when he does Dean notices that the words sound slurred.  
“I can't heal parts of a true form. Only terrestrial creatures, like my vessel or you.”  
“Hm,” Dean comments, “So how long will it take you to heal?”  
The angel sighs. “I don't know. Maybe a couple of years. It's hard to say.”  
“Shit...” A though comes to Dean that alarms him. “Wait, Cas... Can you fly like this?”  
“Um,” Cas sounds like he is wondering if Dean is serious with his question, “No, I obviously can't fly like this. How would I do that?”  
Dean has stopped his task of cleaning Cas' wings and the water just runs down down the drain. He sounds as horrified as he feels: “So you won't be able to fly for years?!”  
Cas turns to look at him for a moment, his head tilted. “Why are you so upset about this?”  
Dean ignores the question, staring at the broken wings. “Did you know that would happen when you came to save me?”  
“Oh,” mutters Cas when he realizes where Dean is going with his questions. The angel turns to face Dean and pulls the hunter to his feet. His hands rest on Dean's hips as he firmly looks him into the eyes.  
“Yes, Dean, I knew I was getting into danger when I came to help you. And when I understood there was no time left to fly away with you I also understood that I could lose my wings if I tried to shield us with them.” Dean opens his mouth, but Cas lays his index finger on his lips and continues, “But I would give my wings any time for your life. There is no doubt about that and I would appreciate it if you stopped doubting your worth. There is no comparison to a few years without flying.”  
Finally Cas removes his finger from Dean's lips, but now the hunter takes a while to come up with an answer.  
“But... if years are nothing to you... I will... I will die soon, Cas. Even if I get old for a hunter, I don't have that much left to go. I don't know if that is worth any-”  
The angel looks angry enough to smite him any second. “First of all,” Cas rumbles, “you have stopped aging months ago. You are part angel, Dean. And secondly,” Cas doesn't give Dean any time to process what he had just said and cups his cheeks, staring right into his soul.  
“Dean Winchester, just because my true form ages at a different rate as a human one, it doesn't mean I don't get to enjoy every single moment with you. I remember and cherish them all, Dean, from the day we met to the day we kissed for the first time, from the day you told me our first intercourse was 'awesome' to this very day, that I will not forget like all the others. I wouldn't just say it if I didn't mean it, Dean: I love you.”  
The hunter is rendered speechless at Cas' words and just stares at him for a while, until he can croak: “I... I love you too, Cas.”  
The angel smiles and turns around again, and Dean is more than happy to return to his task of cleaning Cas' wings to sort his thoughts. Carefully he cleans one mess of debris or guts after the other, and just when his back starts to hurt from leaning down to the end of Cas' wings he is done with it. He sighs and gets up, stretching his back until his vertebra crack. Cas, too, sighs as he turns to Dean. The hunter protests:  
“I'm not done yet. I have to sort out the feathers!”  
Cas' eyes light up with joy before he suggests: “We could lay down for that. Might be more comfortable.”  
Dean is quick to agree to that.

///

The view of Cas, laying naked on the bed with his wings draped around him, is mesmerizing. For a couple of moments Dean is only standing behind the bed, staring and taking in the view. An Cas is letting him, not rushing, not getting impatient.  
Dean can't help himself and whispers: “Unfairly perfect.”  
Cas just chuckles.  
The hunter climbs on the mattress to the side of Cas so that he is able to reach his wings. The process of sorting out the feathers that are sticking into the wrong direction is calming and at the same time fairly intimate. Dean understands now that angels don't let just anybody help them with their wings. There are a couple of soft spots – the base of Cas' wing for example – that draw the cutest noises out of the angel. Not that Dean would ever say that out loud.  
He dislikes finding feathers that are broken, though. Thankfully there aren't too many feathers that are hurt that badly. When he sees the first one, he hesitates and asks Cas what to do. The angel instructs him to pluck it, but Dean is reluctant to do so. Cas needs a lot of time to convince the hunter to actually pull the feather that is snapped near the base. Dean eventually holds down the wing in an effort to keep it from moving to much when he pulls at the feather, since movement hurts Cas' broken bones. He tells himself that it will be like a plaster, getting it out quickly is less painful than pulling it slowly. Grabbing the covers Cas tells him to go for it and Dean rips it out in a quick movement. Cas groans and it makes Dean's heart bleed. While stroking Cas' back the hunter stares at the feather in his hand. It is lightly shimmering just like Cas' wings. Dean takes the broken part and holds it up so that the feather looks like it isn't broken. There is something about it that fascinates him, a piece of Cas that he can hold in his hand. Eventually Cas turns his head and spots him staring at the single feather.  
His voice is soft when he asks: “Do you like it?”  
Dean nods. “I don't know what it is, but it feels good holding it. Like it is a part of you.”  
Cas' wings shift and the angel pulls a face as he sits up, the broken wings not behaving like he wants them to. He reaches out and runs his finger over the feather in Dean's hand.  
“That's because it is. There is still some grace running through the feather, even though it is practically dead. So that is why you feel like it is a part of me.”  
Dean looks at the feather in awe, running his own finger over it where Cas just had. After a while he asks, blushing: “Can I keep it?”  
“No,” Cas smiles at him and shakes his head, “I will not give you a broken feather of mine. I can give you a healthy one, though.”  
“Don't you dare ripping a good feather out of your wings!” Protests Dean. Cas doesn't respond but climbs out of the bed.  
“Stay here,” he instructs Dean, who raises his eyebrows, and the angel gabs Dean's jeans from the floor before he slips out of the door.  
It takes a couple of minutes before Cas comes back. Dean wonders if it is because the angel can't just fly around the bunker but actually has to walk. He isn't sure if Cas had been walking when nobody could see him, and it hadn't even come to his mind up to this day. Before he can feel guilty again Cas comes back, one hand hidden behind his back.  
“Close your eyes,” he tells the hunter, and Dean does it without thinking. He can hear Cas walking towards him and feels that something touches his chest, but it is too light for him to feel what it might be.  
“Okay,” Cas comments and takes a step back, “open them.” The angel is smiling at him with something like excitement in his eyes and Dean looks down. Around his neck runs a leather band that has a small, neat feather bound to it. It looks like one of the small ones close to the base of the wing, and it shimmers black. Dean is too moved by the gesture to actually complain about the fact that Cas quite clearly has ripped it out of his wing. It feels like an echo of a touch from Cas, just above his heart.  
“I'll always be with you,” whispers Cas, and by the look on his face he likes it as much as Dean does.  
“Thank you,” says Dean, his voice thick and heavy. He cautiously takes the feather in his hand, running his thumb over the soft surface. His gaze falls onto Cas' bare chest.  
“You should have one of mine,” he states. Cas just keeps looking at him and doesn't respond, so Dean questions, “If you would like that?”  
“I would,” admits the angel, “but you don't have to take out a feather.”  
Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, like I didn't say the same thing. Where did you get the string?”  
Cas blushes and pulls another one out of the jeans' pocket just as Dean is getting up. “I... might have brought a second one. Just in case...”  
A grin spreads over Dean's face and he turns his back to the angel. “Take one from where you took yours.”  
“I don't-” starts Cas, but Dean interrupts him: “Come on, angel, you made me pull out your feathers, now you can pull one of mine. Get on with it.”  
The angel sighs and looks through Dean's feathers until he holds one between two fingers, his other hand holding the wing.  
“I'm sorry,” Cas exclaims as he pulls, and with a sharp pain the feather is gone. Dean bites his cheek, determined not to make a single sound, but he can't quite help the sharp breath he sucks in. When he feels like his face is not showing any more pain he turns around, and Cas has already tied the feather to the leather band. Dean takes it from his hands.  
“Matching necklaces. I can't believe it,” Dean comments when he puts his feather around Cas' neck. The deep blue shimmers in contrast to Cas' chest and Dean suddenly feels a rush of emotions wash over him.  
“Mine,” he realizes. Cas is his, and this just shows it again. The angel wants to stay with him.  
“Don't pretend you don't like it,” Cas calls him out and Dean rolls his eyes. Cas had gotten way too good at reading him.  
“Come on, more feathers to pluck.” Dean motions Cas to lay down again, mostly so the angel can't see him turning bright red. The angel quickly kisses his cheek as he moves past Dean and whispers: “Because I like it a lot.”  
Dean grumbles when Cas lays down on his stomach again. When he carefully strokes Cas' wings again he admits mumbling: “I do like it, too.”

///

“Can I ask you something?” Cas questions some ordered feathers later.  
“Shoot, buddy.”  
The angel turns his head so he can glance at Dean.  
“When you prayed to me... Why did you say you're sorry?”  
“Oh.” Dean focuses on the wing under his hands for a moment, trying to figure out his answer. It's not that he doesn't know it, but emotions still aren't his strong suit.  
“This feather looks pretty bad. I think it has to go,” he announces and inspects one that has a singed tip, “when did your wings get burned by fire?”  
“Are you trying to avoid answering me?” Cas calls him out and Dean sighs. Absent-mindedly he strokes Cas' wing as he searches for words.  
“You know,” he finally starts, “I... I haven't always been the most careful on hunts. I wouldn't get myself in danger on purpose, and I didn't manipulate the hunts to be more risky, but...” Dean shifts in his place, avoiding Cas' eyes as he calmly continues, “I never minded the thought of one day dying on a hunt. That was my idea of how I would go out. Guns blazing, you know?”  
Cas' eyes are filled with sadness, even though he doesn't say anything.  
“And then came the Sherica. I was convinced that was it. There was no way I would get away from it. In that moment, all I could think of was... you. And...”  
Dean pauses. He follows the feathers down from the top of the wing, watching the black shimmer in them. The ones belonging to his angel.  
“And suddenly I though... 'I don't want to go'. That hasn't happened in a while. But there are still things I want to do with you... And I don't want to leave you behind. So... all I could think of telling you was 'I'm sorry'.”  
Cas gets up and without hesitation pulls Dean into a hug. Their new feather necklaces get pressed between their chests, hot skin against skin. Dean's heart swells when Cas whispers into his ear: “I'm glad you want to stay because of me. And I want you to know, Dean... You are my reason for still being here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who followed Dean's and Cas' journey!  
> I have told the story I wanted to tell now, and I will no longer post weekly chapters. I have an idea in mind for an epilogue, but I don't want to rush it, so it might take a little while.  
> Edit: This is now part of a series, if you want to read a little bit more about this universe, you can!  
> I am so happy with how the story went and hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did.  
> Lots of love to all of you!


End file.
